FROM 


SIAN 
ANDS 


F.  HALE 


55* 


SO" 


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Sfxtn/brdj  Geoyy  Kitab^  Londorh. 


THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 


BY 

F.     HALE 


NEW    YORK 
E.  P.  BUTTON  AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Printed  in  Great  Britain 


H  15  i 


FROM  PERSIAN   UPLANDS 

AsKABAD,  15/^  August  1918. 

Dear  M., — You  are  wondering,  I  suppose,  what 
has  happened  to  me  since  I  left  London  on  the 
7th :  whether  I  missed  the  train  at  Victoria,  or 
took  the  wrong  one  at  Flushing  :  whether  I  dallied 
in  Berlin,  or  was  held  up  in  Warsaw  :  how,  know- 
ing no  Russian,  I  contrived  to  get  over  the  long 
journey  through  Southern  Russia  to  Rostov,  and 
so  along  the  northern  side  of  the  Caucasus  and 
down  the  western  shore  of  the  Caspian  Sea  to 
Baku,  the  port  of  outset  for  the  Middle  East. 

That  five  days'  orgy  of  locomotion,  with  the 
delightsome  twelve  hours'  crossing  to  Krasno- 
vodsk  in  a  clean  well-equipped  steamer,  and  the 
final  twenty-one  hours  in  a  leisurely  journey  south- 
eastward by  the  Transcaspian  Railway  that 
brought  me  here  to  Askabad,  come  back  in 
snatches  like  the  brief  inconsequent  episodes  that 
stand  out  from  a  night's  dreaming.  Isolated 
pictures  rise  up  and  glide  past  in  memory  :  the 
glint  of  the  sun  on  the  chestnut  backs  of  a  plough- 
ing team  in  Westphalia — the  conversation  in  the 
dining-car  as  we  dashed  along  through  birch 
groves  in  Hanover — the  cosmopolitan  women  of  a 

A 


l^  <  /"^  r>  i-«stf^ 


2  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Berlin  cafe,  and  the  rotund,  spectacled  gendarmes 
of  the  Friedrichstrasse — little  bowler-hatted  ill- 
shaven  men  in  the  streets  of  the  Polish  capital, 
and  the  poor  at  the  doors  of  the  half-eastern 
churches  there — in  Russia,  the  heavy-booted  and 
belted  giants  of  railway  officialdom,  the  close- 
cropped  heads  and  great  beards  of  the  men,  the 
blank  rusticity  of  the  pale-faced  blue-eyed  country 
girls  at  the  countless  little  railway  stations  where 
the  engines  are  watered  and  the  passengers  re- 
freshed— and  again,  the  lifeless  immensity  of  the 
plains  on  a  Sunday,  with  great  stretches  of  wheat 
and  oats  and  maize  relieved  by  the  golden  stream 
of  field  on  field  of  sunflowers  with  their  heads 
bowed  eastwards. 

Impressions  of  personalities,  too,  detach  them- 
selves here  and  there  from  the  confused  memory 
of  strange  types  and  foreign  tongues.  Brief 
acquaintances  formed  on  the  basis  of  a  common 
speech  are  recalled  with  grateful  interest.  On  the 
way  to  Berlin  I  met  an  English  schoolboy  off  to 
Vienna  for  his  holidays,  and  his  cheery  talk  made 
me  home-sick,  for  I  was  not  to  hear  the  like  of  it 
for  another  five  years.  For  two  whole  days  of 
travelling  in  Russian  trains  I  had  the  company 
of  an  American,  whose  terse  reflections  on  things 
in  general,  and  on  Muscovite  methods  of  agri- 
culture in  particular,  did  much  to  alleviate  the 
discomfort  of  a  sooty  and  ill-lighted  sleeping-car. 
On  the  Caspian,  too,  I  was  lucky  enough  to  meet 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  3 

a  Russian  ofiicer  who  spoke  French.  I  had  always 
imagined  that  French  was  a  second  language  to 
most  educated  Russians,  but  on  both  my  journeys 
across  their  southern  country  I  met  with  only  two 
or  three  who  had  a  knowledge  of  any  tongue  but 
their  own,  which  can  hardly  be  called  an  inter- 
national speech. 

As  a  matter  of  necessity,  of  course,  the  ordinary 
routine  of  travel  calls  for  very  little  linguistic 
effort.  One  has  but  to  put  a  childlike  trust  in 
porters,  railway  officials,  and  hotel  servants,  whose 
intelligence  is  equal  to  most  occasions.  If,  how- 
ever, a  hitch  occurs,  then  the  trouble  commences. 
A  man  who  loses  his  luggage,  or  takes  the  wrong 
train,  or  falls  into  a  like  predicament  and  cannot 
explain  himself  out  of  it,  will  quickly  become  a  mere 
source  of  amusement,  or  even  a  ridiculous  object. 
A  lady,  travelling  alone  and  in  similar  case,  will 
of  course  have  as  much  compassionate  attention 
and  generous  service  as  she  cares  to  requisition. 

Luckily  I  had  no  hitches,  so  here  I  am,  deposited 
at  Askabad  by  the  long  leisurely  train  that  is 
taking  Russian  mails,  Russian  officers  and  soldiers, 
Russian  tradesmen,  and  a  nondescript  motley  of 
yellow-skinned  people  with  narrow  glistening  eyes 
and  high  cheek-bones,  eastward  to  Bukhara  and 
Samarkand,  those  towns  of  a  wondrous  past. 

I  should  like  to  go  with  them,  but  the  mountains 
of  the  south  are  there  in  wait  for  me.  To-night, 
as  I  sit  in  a  moonlit  garden  of  palms,  acacias,  and 


4  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

willows,  discussing  the  latest  Paris  news  with  a 
little  old  spectacled  Frenchwoman,  the  pleasure 
of  the  hour  is  made  piquant  with  regrets  and 
speculations.  To-morrow,  before  the  sun  sets, 
I  shall  be  in  Persia  again. 

When  you  asked  me  whether  I  was  really  glad 
to  go  back,  I  shrugged  my  shoulders  or  made 
some  equally  neutral  reply.  A  man  must  make  a 
living,  and  that,  after  all,  is  the  main  argument. 
The  rest  is  a  matter  of  pros  and  cons,  and  when 
you  have  summed  them  up  the  account  pretty 
well  balances.  The  home  life  pulls  hard,  especi- 
ally at  times  of  leave-taking.  So  much  of  tradi- 
tion and  environment  have  to  be  given  up  ;  so 
much  of  the  sensible  pleasures  and  perceptions 
that  have  made  up  your  early  life  seems  to  be  lost 
when  you  go  among  a  race  that  has  none  of  those 
things  you  take  delight  in.  One  cannot  go  to  the 
opera  in  Persia,  or  hear  a  Beethoven  symphony, 
or  visit  the  Academy,  or  dance  at  a  country  ball, 
or  take  a  punt  on  the  river,  or  discuss  the  burning 
questions  of  the  day  over  a  snug  fireside.  Of  what 
use,  in  the  Middle  East,  is  a  liking  for  French 
poets  or  English  county  history  ?  Of  what  ser- 
vice is  the  study  of  socialism,  let  us  say  ?  Side 
interests  of  this  kind  do  not  constitute  a  man's 
character  ?  Well,  perhaps  not,  but  they  are  a  big 
part  of  his  personalty,  to  use  a  la\^yer's  word, 
and  except  in  so  far  as  they  recur  pleasantly  in 
memory  these  things  are  so  much  loss  to  the  life 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  5 

of  one  who  has  suddenly  to  drop  them  and  take 
up  other  concerns.  On  the  other  hand,  you  may 
say  that  such  things  go  to  the  building-up  of  a 
creed,  and  give  a  point  of  attack,  as  it  were,  for 
new  life.  There  is  not  much  in  that,  but  you  can 
have  it  for  what  it  is  worth,  and  we  will  turn 
to  the  sad  case  of  the  man  on  leave  after  five 
years  in  a  country  like  this.  He,  poor  fellow,  is 
pulled  both  ways.  He  goes  home  to  his  friends, 
who,  in  spite  of  correspondence,  have  known 
nothing  of  him  during  that  great  slice  of  time.  He 
takes  up  the  old  life,  plays  golf  and  goes  to  the 
theatre,  and  talks  about  politics  and  the  stock 
exchange  in  a  pathetic  attempt  to  make  up  the 
interval  and  come  in  touch.  But  all  the  while 
his  mind  is  working  on  lines  his  friends  cannot 
follow.  He  feels  that  these  people,  with  whom 
he  once  saw  eye  to  eye,  are  looking  down  avenues 
of  thought  that  no  longer  exist  for  him.  He 
thinks,  probably,  that  their  intelligence  is  dissi- 
pated in  the  details  of  town  life  and  daily  news- 
papers. His  conversation  with  them  must  be 
either  anecdotal  or  general— forms  which  lead 
quickly  to  exhaustion  and  boredom,  but  seldom 
to  intimacy.  After  a  few  months  his  international 
outlook  begins  to  take  local  colour  again,  when, 
heigh-ho  !  he  must  go  back  to  the  East.  Of  what 
use  '  reviving  old  desires,'  to  be  thus  torn  from  their 
attainment  ?  He  sighs  and  turns  his  mind  for 
consolation  to  thoughts  of  guns  and  tennis  rackets 


6  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

and  of  the  comforting  attentions  of  many  native 
servants.  The  Stores  and  his  tailor  provide  him 
with  an  outfit  and  supphes,  and  away  he  goes. 
His  mental  outfit  is  a  patchy  one,  partly  discarded 
and  partly  renewed,  but  not  to  be  completed 
anywhere  in  Europe. 

I  fancy  I  see  you,  as  you  read  this,  throwing 
your  head  back,  raising  your  eyebrows,  smiling  a 
tolerant  smile  with  your  eyes  and  a  determined 
one  with  your  lips,  and  asking  again  :  '  Are  you 
glad  to  go  ?  '  Why  yes,  of  course  I  am.  But  I 
should  like  to  have  you  with  me. 

RoBAT  I  TuRUKH,  Ist  September  1913. 

Dear  M.,— I  had  a  letter  from  R.  yesterday, 
telling  me  that  you  were  going  north  for  a  holiday 
on  the  moors,  so  I  expect  you  to  share  my  mood 
this  evening — a  joyous  one,  for  I  am  at  last  on 
the  road  with  my  caravan,  having  left  Meshed 
just  a  few  hours  ago.  But  first  let  me  tell  you 
how  I  got  there. 

The  morning  after  I  wrote  you  I  left  Askabad 
with  my  hand-luggage  in  an  old  phaeton  with 
no  tyres,  drawn  by  three  scraggy  ponies.  I  had 
no  servant,  and  the  driver  was  a  Russian  who 
knew  about  ten  w^ords  of  Persian,  so  we  hadn't 
much  to  say  to  each  other,  and  I  let  him  go  as 
he  liked.  We  rolled  along  a  flat  road  for  a 
couple  of  hours  through  a  stream  of  dust  set  up 
by  the  horses'  feet,  and  then  rattled  uphill  to 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  7 

the  first  wayside  stopping-place,  where  we  halted 
for  an  hour  and  a  half  to  have  lunch  and  feed  the 
team.     For  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  we  continued 
up  and  through  the  mountains  till  the  frontier 
was  reached  an  hour  before  sunset.     My  passport 
was  taken  and  returned  for  the  sixth  and  last 
time  in  Russian  territory,  and  we  passed  on  up 
to  the  Russian  frontier  post  and  down  to  the 
Persian  village  of  Bajgiran,  where  I  put  up  for 
the  night  in  a  room  in  a  caravanserai  kept  by  a 
Russian.     Next    morning    we    were    off    at    six 
o'clock,  and  so  we  rumbled  south-eastwards  for 
four  days,  through  a  continuous  flow  of  white 
grimy  dust,  till  we  passed  through  one  of  the  gates 
of  Meshed,  and  rattled  and  jogged  and  jingled 
our  way  over  rough-paved  narrow  streets,  coming 
to  rest  finally  near  the  town  square,   where  I 
found  a  cheery  welcome  in  a  roomy  bungalow 
with  a  shady  garden. 

Tea  in  a  deck-chair  under  the  trees  on  the  lawn 
was  very  pleasant  after  an  hour  spent  in  removing 
road-dust.  Later  on  some  tennis  players  turned 
up,  and  I  was  introduced  to  a  few  members  of 
the  European  colony.  Five  days  later  I  received 
my  luggage  from  Askabad,  and  commenced 
preparations  for  continuing  my  journey.  Un- 
fortunately we  are  in  the  month  of  Ramazan, 
when  good  Mohammedans  sleep  and  pray  most 
of  the  day,  eat  and  drink  at  night  only,  and  do 
as  little  work  as  possible,  so  that  I  was  detained 


8  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

another    week    before    starting.     The    Russians 
have  an  infantry  garrison  at  present  in  Meshed, 
and  they  run  a  miUtary  club  where  every  one 
goes  once  a  week  to  dance  and  make  merry  to 
the  music  of  the  regimental  band.     The  officers 
themselves  are  the  most  hospitable  fellows  im- 
aginable, and  their  conviviality  knows  no  bounds 
in  extent  or  duration.     When  they  have  danced 
their  wonderful  dances  for  an  hour  or  so,  they 
sit  down  to  supper,  and  dishes  are  passed  and 
glasses  are  emptied  and  songs  are  sung  till  it  is 
time  to  return  to  the  dancing.     Later,  when  the 
ladies  have  gone  home  and  the  band  has  played 
itself  out,  they  continue  their  jovial  capers  till 
it  is  time  for  morning  drill.     In  the  afternoon 
you    will    see    them    playing   indifferent   tennis 
with  the  same  inexhaustible  zest.     One  wonders 
when  they  sleep  and  whether  they  ever  feel  tired. 
I  entered  Meshed  somewhat  in  the  travelling 
fashion   of    seventeenth-century   England.      To- 
night I  am  back  in  the  Middle  Ages.     Not  en- 
tirely so,  for  my  little  camp  has  in  it  many  touches 
of   modern    Europe,    instance    the    folding    bed, 
table  and  chair  fresh  from  London,  which  half- 
fill  my   Indian  tent   bought   in  the   bazaars  of 
Meshed.     The    candle-lamps    are    lit,    and    the 
servants   are   busy   with   cooking- pots   round   a 
wood    fire.     My    horse,    a    few    yards    away,    is 
crunching  his  barley  with  an  appetite  born  of 
anticipation.     Farther  off,  the  mules  are  feeding 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  9 

quietly,  with  every  now  and  then  a  httle  reverber- 
ant note  from  the  bells  at  their  necks  as  the  animals 
bury  their  muzzles  deeper  into  their  nosebags.  A 
light  breeze  rustles  in  the  willows  by  the  water- 
course.    The  heavens  are  luminous  with  stars. 

Meshed,  with  its  pilgrim  population  of  dead 
and  living,  is  lost  in  darkness  across  the  plain, 
and  remains  but  a  vanishing  memory.  Lost, 
too,  is  its  golden  dome,  that  glittering  crown  of 
Persia's  most  holy  shrine,  whereto  the  pilgrims 
journey — many  of  them  old  and  frail  men, 
hastening,  perhaps,  to  end  their  days  like  moths 
beneath  its  ball  of  fire. 

You  will  be  tramping  the  heather  these  days, 
breathing  the  air  of  the  hills,  and  asking  yourself 
why  you  ever  live  in  towns.  I  too  have  found 
my  hills  again.  They  are  not  clothed  with 
heather,  but  bare,  for  the  most  part,  to  the  all- 
devouring  sun.  The  plains,  waterless  but  for 
a  few  happy  valleys,  have  nothing  to  embellish 
them  but  a  patchy  growth  of  scrubby  little 
desert  plants,  on  some  of  which  the  camel 
browses.  Here  are  no  morning  mists,  no  dewy 
twilights.  The  air  is  clear,  translucent.  The 
world  is  in  outline.  Everything  is  naked,  simple, 
inevitable.  Over  all  sits  solitude  among  the 
hilltops,  like  a  spirit  brooding  on  eternity.  .  .  . 

After  all,  I  envy  you  your  moors.  But  then, 
perhaps,  sometimes,  you  envy  me  my  wilderness, 
do  you  not  T 


XO  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

AmkanI,  8th  September  1913. 

Dear  M., — I  arrived  here  at  six  this  morning, 
having  been  in  the  saddle  since  sunset  last  night. 
Food  was  almost  unobtainable,  thanks  to  the 
ravages  of  a  band  of  Persian  cavalry  who  had 
preceded  us,  so  I  had  to  breakfast  on  tea  (without 
milk)  and  the  remains  of  a  large  cake  provided 
by  my  kind  hostess  in  Meshed.  Later  on,  by 
means  of  prayers,  expostulations,  anticipatory 
blessings,  and  payment  in  advance,  we  procured 
a  meagre  supply  of  bread,  melons  and  fowls, 
and  fodder  for  the  animals.  The  deficiencies  of 
the  commissariat  are  aggravated  by  the  fact 
that  the  plains  are  full  of  big  black-breasted 
sand-grouse — nice  fat  birds  that  would  make  a 
delectable  lunch  if  only  there  was  a  gun  in  the 
camp. 

I  have  come  so  far  gently  and  by  easy  stages, 
through  the  village  of  Sharifabad,  by  Robat  i 
Saf  id,  to  the  pleasant  little  town  of  Turbat,  which 
lies  buried  in  orchards  between  two  fertile  plains  ; 
on  to  Zurnukh  and  Mehneh — both  of  them  crown 
lands.  From  the  latter  place  to  here  is  about 
thirty  miles  over  a  broad  plain,  with  not  a  single 
habitation  on  the  road  beyond  a  few  miserable 
houses  half-way. 

As  we  filed  off  southwards  last  night  in  little 
groups  and  units,  I  thought  of  past  journeys  in 
Persia — long    weary    marches    in    the    Bakhtiari 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  11 

mountains,  with  the  partridge  calHng  at  sunrise- 
riverside  camps  in  the  heat  of  early  autumn — the 
night  ascent  of  the  great  passes  from  Kazeran  to 
Dasht  i  Arjen  on  the  Bushire  road— PersepoUs 
in  the  dusk  of  evening,  witii  the  great  carven 
bulls  guarding  the  porch  of  Xerxes.  .  .  . 

We  moved  out  slowly,  with  the  long  cool  night 
before  us.  Westward  across  the  great  plain 
the  sky  was  magical  with  sunset  tints  along  the 
unbroken  horizon — a  long  yellow  flush  on  the 
level  of  the  pale  sun— above  him  rose-pink,  and 
over  that  a  little  grey  bank  of  feathery  cloud. 
In  the  south  the  crystal  half-moon  was  floating 
like  an  iceberg  in  a  sea  of  turquoise  blue.  East- 
ward the  blue  turned  to  lapis  lazuli,  sinking 
deeper  and  deeper  till  it  merged  into  shadowed 
tones  of  murky  violet  and  purple  along  the 
darkening  horizon. 

The  mules  crept  on  with  little  deliberate  steps, 
their  noses  to  the  track.  Behind  them  the 
muleteers  followed  with  long  swinging  strides. 
In  the  rear  came  my  four  mounted  guards,  with 
their  old  Werndl  rifles  balanced  across  their 
saddles.  Anon  the  Milky  Way  appeared  over- 
head, and  the  Great  Bear  came  rising  over  the 
northern  hills.  The  moon,  lost  for  the  moment 
in  cloudy  billows,  left  us  in  semi-darkness,  out 
of  which  glowed  little  red  spots  of  fire  in  the 
pipes  of  the  muleteers. 

Suddenly  the  leader  of  the  horsemen  at  my 


12  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

back  burst  into  song,  shouting  in  high-pitched 
long-drawn  notes — a  song  of  languorous  amour, 
full  of  the  ripples  and  gurgles  and  trills  that 
characterise  these  people's  music.  When  he 
stopped  I  bade  him  continue — and  moved  a 
little  farther  ahead  of  him.  He  had  a  good 
voice,  but  its  edges,  to  the  ears  of  a  European, 
needed  the  softening  of  distance. 

Midnight  passed,  and  the  men  became  less 
talkative.  Heads  nodded  over  saddles,  and  doz- 
ing figures  sank  into  amorphous  bundles  on  the 
packs  of  the  ridden  mules.  The  muleteers  took 
turns  on  their  one  little  donkey,  stretching  them- 
selves face  do^vnwards  across  the  sacks  of  fodder 
on  his  all- suffering  back.  The  moon  had  long 
disappeared,  and  the  track  was  barely  visible. 
The  hours  drew  on  between  waking  and  dreaming 
and  watching  the  stars.  Orion,  limb  by  limb, 
had  dragged  himself  clear  of  the  horizon,  and 
was  now  well  on  his  way  westward.  By  and  by 
the  morning  star  appeared,  bringing  with  it  the 
false  dawn.  The  air  grew  chilly,  and  I  dis- 
mounted and  led  my  horse  awhile.  Gradually 
the  east  paled.  Pale  turned  to  white,  and  white 
became  yellow.  The  stars  disappeared,  and  the 
brown  hills  stood  out  clear.  A  great  flight  of 
crows  passed  high  overhead.  The  horses,  sight- 
ing the  village  of  our  destination,  quickened  their 
steps.  At  last,  all  awake  and  lively  again,  we 
jogged  into  Amr^ni  as  the  sun  was  rising. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  13 

Kain,  nth  September  1913. 

Dear  M., — I  left  Amrani  at  four  on  the  morning 
of  the  ninth,  going  southwards  across  the  plain 
into  hills  and  among  sand-dunes  that  gave  way 
eventually  to  the  broad  plains  of  Gunabad,  which 
I  found  to  be  plentifully  blest  with  large  villages 
and  fruit  gardens.  At  eight-thirty  we  reached 
Beidukht,  finding  quarters  for  the  day  in  the 
house  of  a  peasant  whose  wife  and  family  promptly 
vacated  the  two  living-rooms  to  make  place  for 
me.  In  one  of  these  rooms  the  roof,  for  a  yard  or 
more  from  the  outer  wall  and  across  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  room,  was  replaced  by  a  wind- 
funnel  arrangement  of  brick  and  plaster  roughly 
partitioned  into  three  great  vents  for  the  passage 
of  air-currents.  The  householder,  who  paid  about 
four  shillings  a  month  rent  for  his  four  rooms  and 
kitchen  and  go-downs,  was  a  solicitous  fellow,  and 
took  me  on  to  his  roof  to  illustrate  the  great 
labour  required  for  the  conservation  of  water  in 
the  surrounding  orchards  and  cotton  and  melon 
fields.  The  gardens  were  all  deeply  sunk,  and 
the  fields  banked  round  with  earth  to  retain  the 
scanty  rain-water.  Well-water,  he  told  me,  was 
only  obtainable  at  a  depth  of  six  hundred  feet. 
Later,  I  was  shown  an  underground  reservoir,  the 
water  of  which  had  recently  been  spoiled  by  the 
action  of  an  Indian  and  several  Russian  Cossacks 
on  their  way  southwards.     These   travellers,   it 


14  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

was  said,  had  gone  there  to  wash  themselves,  and 
had  apparently  made  a  free  use  of  soap  in  the 
tank  itself. 

At  Beidukht  I  had  to  change  guards,  and  a 
messenger  was  accordingly  sent  to  the  deputy- 
governor  at  an  adjacent  village.  Subsequently 
I  sent  a  second  messenger  to  hasten  matters,  and 
four  men  turned  up  late  at  night.  As  only  three 
of  them  were  provided  with  rifles,  I  told  the 
fourth  I  had  no  use  for  a  mounted  man  who  was 
unarmed,  and  sent  him  away.  In  a  few  moments 
he  returned  flourishing  an  old  revolver.  He  was 
quite  disconsolate  and  not  a  little  perplexed  when 
I  told  him  that  a  rifle  of  some  sort  was  obligatory. 
Eventually  I  left  with  the  other  three  at  midnight 
by  a  low  moon,  and  reached  Khidri  at  half -past 
eight  next  morning.  The  road  was  a  fairly  good 
one,  climbing  and  winding  for  the  last  seven  miles 
through  a  broad  range  of  hills,  from  which  we 
descended  gently  to  the  plain 

At  Khidri  I  occupied  a  small  house  with  one 
living  room,  open  kitchen-space,  and  a  compound 
about  twelve  feet  square.  In  the  evening,  as  I 
stood  on  the  low  mud  roof  watching  the  home- 
returning  of  goat-herds  with  their  scanty  flocks, 
a  dervish  came  to  my  door  in  the  street  below, 
chanting  raucously  and  with  much  loud  profes- 
sional groaning.  His  litany  commenced  in  praise 
of  the  deity,  and  shortly  became  very  topical 
and  pointed  in  indirect  address  to  myself  as  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  15 

object  of  his  attentions.  The  matter  of  his  chant 
was  that  a  certain  sahib,  whose  name  he  men- 
tioned and  whom  I  was  shortly  to  meet  in  Bir- 
jand,  was  a  very  generous  sahib,  possessed  of  many 
virtues,  and,  in  short,  that  this  munificent  sahib 
gave  him  two  krans  (eightpence)  every  year.  I 
was  so  struck  with  this  unexpected  testimonial  to 
my  future  friend's  widespread  reputation  that  I 
promptly  bestowed  half  that  sum  on  the  wily 
beggar-dervish.  He  went  off  chanting  louder  than 
ever,  and  the  burden  of  his  sing-song  strain, 
announced   tunefully  to   the  whole  village,  was 

this :  '  There  are  two  sahibs  in  the  world :  

sahib  and  this  sahib  !  These  are  the  greatest  of 
the  Feranghis  !  ' 

An  hour  or  two  after  sunset  we  got  clear  of 
Khidri.  The  mules  were  going  slowly,  with  a 
fairly  long  stage  before  them,  so  I  left  them  to 
their  leisurely  paces  and  pushed  on  with  one  guard 
and  my  servants.  Our  escort  proved  to  be  the 
poorest  of  guides,  and  as  a  consequence  we  lost 
the  road  twice  in  the  course  of  the  night.  For 
two-thirds  of  the  way  we  kept  to  the  plain,  then 
entered  the  hills,  and  by  and  by  threaded  our  way 
out  again  by  a  winding  river-course.  The  rising 
sun  showed  the  town  of  Kain,  the  old  capital  of 
the  district,  lying  under  the  southern  hills  across 
the  plain.  We  had  travelled  nearly  forty  miles  in 
the  night,  and  I  was  glad  to  find  comfortable 
quarters  in  the  telegraph  office. 


16  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

This  afternoon  I  had  a  visit  from  a  Persian  who 
holds  an  appointment  in  the  town.  He  was  a 
gentleman  of  the  new  school,  and  represented 
one  of  its  least  attractive  types.  After  airing 
with  ill-concealed  vanity  his  meagre  knowledge 
of  French  and  English,  he  drifted  into  political 
platitudes,  and  for  half  an  hour  regaled  me  with 
second-hand  ideas,  culled,  obviously,  from  the 
Teheran  newspapers  of  the  last  five  years.  The 
purport  of  his  oracular  eloquence  was  twofold. 
'  We  Persians  are  a  poor  people,  unworthy  of 
civilisation,  and  fit  only  for  subjection.'  And,  on 
the  other  hand,  '  England  and  Russia  are  here 
entirely  for  their  own  benefit ;  they  will  not  let 
other  races  help  us,  and  their  trade  interests  are 
a  mere  pretext  created  as  an  excuse  for  political 
encroachment.'  Persia's  young  men  are  very 
prone,  nowadays,  to  lamenting  their  failings  as  a 
race.  National  self-abasement  is  the  burden  of 
their  talk,  and  much  fluent  diction  is  wasted  in 
destructive  criticism  of  their  leaders'  methods, 
which  criticism,  of  course,  they  never  think  of 
applying  to  themselves  as  individuals. 

Kain  is  not  a  prosperous  town,  and  I  begin  to 
wonder  if  the  rest  of  the  district  is  like  it.  My 
servants  have  a  low  opinion  of  the  place,  having 
found  that  mutton,  fowls,  and  rice,  for  some 
temporary  reason,  were  hard  to  procure.  Their 
view  of  things  is  a  precise  one,  and  its  practical 
justice  oppresses  me. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  17 

QiBK,  13th  September  1913. 

Dear  M., — ^Yesterday's  journey  was  a  pleasant 
one,  and  not  too  arduous.     We  left  Kain  at  three 
in  the  morning,  passing  through  a  long  stretch  of 
gardens  and  along  the  plain  till  we  reached  the 
hills.     A  gentle  winding  ascent  brought  us  to  the 
chilly  top  of  the  pass  at  eight  o'clock,  and  we 
then  descended  with  a  quickly  rising  temperature 
till  our  march  ended  in  Ram,  a  squalid    little 
village  among  the  hills.     On  the  road  we  passed 
half  a  dozen  hamlets  making  the  best  of  their 
scanty  water  supply  with  tiny  fields  of  barley. 
Melons  were  plentiful  along  the  hill-sides,  and  my 
muleteers  helped  themselves  freely  to   the  ripe 
fruit,  which  would  not  in  any  case  fetch  more  than 
a  penny  each  on  the  spot.     Among  the  melons 
were  a  few  castor-oil  plants;    the  uncultivated 
slopes,  dotted  with  boulders  of  dark  rock,  were 
relieved  with  a  fair  growth  of  camel-thorn.     The 
villagers  of  Ram  subsist  on  the  produce  of  their 
meagre  crops,  and  weave  their  clothing  from  the 
fleeces  of  their  ill-fed  flocks.     Their  houses  are  of 
mud  and  straw,  with  sunk  floors  and  low  door- 
ways.    They  refused  silver  or  nickel  money  from 
us,  declaring  that  they  possessed  neither,  and  that 
copper  only  was  current  with  them,  the  coins  being 
less  than  a  farthing  in  value.     Presumably  they 
preferred  small  change  and  thought  it  impolitic 
to  display  their  wealth.     They  spoke  highly  of 


18  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

the  governor  of  the  district,  stating  as  ample 
reason  for  their  loyalty  that  they  had  paid  no 
taxes  for  two  years. 

I  camped  for  the  day  on  a  walled-in  piece  of 
ground,  and  at  two  hours  after  midnight  set  out 
again  through  the  hills,  going  along  in  switchback 
fashion  with  short  ascents  and  long  descents,  till 
we  finally  drew  clear  of  the  mountains  and  de- 
scended to  Sihdeh,  a  populous  village  of  mud 
houses  with  domed  roofs,  lying  in  a  billowy  plain. 
Anon  we  climbed  a  gentle  slope  through  fields  of 
melons,  beet,  and  late  barley,  and  continued  up 
and  down  through  apparently  interminable  hills 
to  Qibk.  Here  we  are  at  another  miserable 
village.  My  camp  is  pitched  beneath  it,  and 
sheltered  from  the  afternoon  sun  by  mulberry 
and  almond  trees. 

I  have  not  explored  this  place  with  the  un- 
pronounceable name.  Rather  I  have  kept  sulkily 
to  my  tent,  outside  which,  at  this  moment,  a 
woman  is  dangling  an  infant  in  a  powerful  appeal 
for  alms. 

My  mood  is  not  charitable.  It  is  rather 
apprehensive.  I  am  wondering  what  Birjand 
will  be  like  when  I  see  it  to-morrow. 

Birjand,  11^^  November  1913. 

Dear  M., — When  I  wrote  you  last  I  was  on  the 
eve  of  my  arrival  here,  two  months  ago.  I  shall 
never  forget  my  impression  as  I  rode  into  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  19 

Birjand  valley  next  morning  and  caught  sight  of 
a  part  of  the  town,  looking  exactly  like  another 
dingy  stopping-place  on  a  caravan  road.  My 
distaste  was  heightened  by  a  nearer  view  of  barren 
hills,  below  which,  on  a  long  hump  sticking  out  of 
the  valley,  was  dumped  a  pell-mell  heap  of  little 
mud  and  plaster  houses  with  domed  roofs  and 
mean  walls.  My  feelings  were  partly  relieved 
when  I  found  a  friendly  reception  and  comfortable 
quarters  awaiting  me,  and  my  first  disappoint- 
ment gradually  gave  way  to  something  else. 

You  will  think  I  have  waited  an  unconscion- 
able time  before  telling  you  anything  about  the 
place  I  have  come  to  live  in.  But  I  have  had  little 
time  to  write  until  now,  and  I  thought  it  better 
not  to  use  bad  language  in  a  hurry. 

The  English  people  I  found  here  have  now  all 
gone  south,  and  I  am  practically  alone  for  the 
time  being.  I  have  looked  around  a  little,  and 
made  acquaintance  with  many  of  the  local  people, 
and  I  find  that  Birjand  isn't  such  a  terrible  place 
as  it  seemed  in  the  first  week  or  two.  In  fact,  I 
feel  like  a  man  who  has  found  a  dust-covered 
bottle  of  rare  old  wine  hidden  in  what  he  thought 
was  an  empty  cellar. 

I  had  inklings  of  such  a  possibility  even  in 
Meshed.  The  governor,  it  was  said  there,  was  a 
man  in  his  early  prime,  who  played  tennis  and 
auction  bridge,  and  was  a  good  shot — a  man  who 
represented  an  old  ruling  family,  and  was  beloved 


20  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

by  his  people.  Truly  an  exceptional  combina- 
tion of  virtues  and  accomplishments,  which  in 
itself  promised  wonders  for  an  out-of-the-way 
district  of  Persia.  That  the  climate  was  excellent 
went  without  saying,  but  that  the  people  were 
prosperous  and  had  an  extensive  and  thriving 
industry  of  their  own  seemed  too  good  to  be 
believed.  I  had  many  misgivings,  but  my  doubts 
have  nearly  all  been  removed. 

The  governor  is  away  just  now  on  business  at 
Teheran.  His  deputy  is  a  cheery,  open-eyed 
fellow,  with  a  hearty  laugh  and  a  good-natured 
desire  to  please  everybody,  to  which  end  he  works 
hard  from  early  morning  till  night.  What  does 
he  do  ?  He  owns  a  lot  of  carpet  factories,  but 
besides  that  he  administers  a  district  with  several 
hundred  thousand  people  in  it.  How  does  he  do 
it  ?  Well,  he  goes  about  seeing  people  sometimes, 
but  generally  he  sits  in  his  office  at  one  end  of  a 
big  garden,  and  talks  to  priests  and  merchants, 
and  landowners  and  officials,  and  village  headmen 
and  tribal  leaders.  Some  of  them  have  important 
grievances,  others  none  at  all,  but  they  almost  all 
want  something  from  him,  and  they  often  get 
what  they  want.  His  office  is  a  general  court- 
house, too.  The  man  whose  neighbour  has 
damaged  his  wall  or  stolen  his  wife,  the  traveller 
who  has  been  robbed  or  says  he  has,  the  late 
pedestrian  arrested  for  being  out  in  the  streets 
after  closing  time  without  the  password,  the  two 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  21 

strangers  who  have  quarrelled,  the  two  friends 
who  have  fought,  the  baker  suing  for  debt,  the 
petty  farmer  claiming  water  rights,  the  man  who 
has  been  called  bad  names  in  public,  the  man  who 
has  resisted  the  '  police,'  and  the  '  policeman ' 
who  has  overstepped  his  authority  —  all  these 
come  along  and  swear  and  forswear  and  counter- 
swear,  each  of  them  with  a  crowd  of  witnesses, 
real  or  imaginary,  and  all  of  them,  by  their  own 
eloquent  showing,  harmless,  innocent,  and  hapless 
ones  who  have  been  vilely  wronged  and  seek  the 
protection  of  a  benign  government  against  the 
most  evil  of  men.  Out  of  contradiction  comes 
truth — not  always,  but  surprisingly  often.  Occa- 
sionally a  severe  beating  takes  place  in  the  high- 
walled  garden  in  front  of  the  court-house,  and  as 
my  own  quarters  are  just  on  the  other  side  of  the 
wall,  I  hear  the  howls  of  the  victim  of  justice  while 
I  am  having  my  poached  eggs  of  a  morning.  My 
boy  cocks  his  head  to  catch  the  groans,  and  grins 
appreciatively.  If  I  ask  him  what  the  culprit  is 
being  bastinadoed  for,  he  is  sure  to  know  all  about 
it.  I  went  on  my  roof  the  other  day  (somewhat 
shamefacedly)  to  watch  the  operation,  as  I  had 
never  seen  a  beating  before.  The  wretch  lay  on 
his  back  with  his  feet  tied  to  a  cross-pole,  and  two 
men  were  laying  on  to  his  upturned  soles  in  de- 
liberate fashion  with  stout  loose  whips.  When  it 
was  over  he  was  carried  to  a  stable  and  left  there 
with  his  swollen  feet  in  the  litter.     Sometimes 


22  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

jagged  branches  of  pomegranate  are  used,  and 
blood  flows  quickly.  Even  death  may  result  if 
the  flogging  is  exceptionally  severe.  Horrible, 
you  say  ;  and  what  a  barbarous  country,  you 
think.  But  is  there  as  much  barbarity  in  that 
as  there  was  in  Europe  less  than  a  hundred  years 
ago  ? 

There  is  a  prison  in  Birjand,  but  the  only 
occupant  at  present  is  a  man  committed  for 
murder  and  awaiting  sentence.  The  murder  was 
cold-blooded,  and  the  man  has  confessed  his 
crime  before  three  priests  in  turn,  but  if  the  son  of 
the  victim  accepts  blood-money  he  will  be  let  off 
at  that.  The  man's  story  is  that  he  and  his  friend, 
fellow-travellers,  were  resting  for  the  night  in  a 
room  at  a  certain  village.  Suddenly  the  devil 
tempted  him  to  kill  his  friend,  who  had  about 
thirty  shillings  on  his  person.  He  could  not  of 
course  resist  the  devil,  so  he  took  a  large  stone  and 
beat  the  brains  out  of  the  sleeping  man.  When 
out  riding  I  have  often  passed  little  cairns  of  stone 
by  the  wayside,  and  I  am  told  that  some  of  them 
mark  the  scene  of  former  murders,  What,  I 
wonder,  are  the  feelings  of  the  murderer's  relatives 
when  they  pass  that  little  cairn  ?  Do  they  add  a 
stone  to  the  pile,  from  pride  or  shame,  or  do  they 
take  one  away,  ivom  fear  ?  Probably  they  have 
no  feelings  at  all. 

The  governor  being  a  bridge  player,  there  are 
naturally  three  other  players  here,  so  I  make  a 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  23 

fourth,  and  we  meet  twice  a  week.  The  stakes 
are  nominal,  and  the  players  are  average  hands. 
Their  terminology  is  an  amusing  mixture  of 
English,  French,  and  Persian,  picked  up  from 
Europeans  or  invented  by  themselves.  We  play 
from  an  hour  after  sunset  till  eight  o'clock  or 
later,  when  they  know  my  dinner- hour  is  due. 
They  themselves  have  their  squatting  meal  at 
any  time  between  nine  and  midnight,  and  retire 
to  bed  very  shortly  after  it,  to  rise  again  with  the 
sun.  The  talk,  in  the  intervals  of  play,  is  viva- 
cious and  jocular,  even  when  business  or  politics 
are  mentioned.  Perhaps  the  Persian  newspaper 
from  Calcutta  is  brought  in,  and  questions  are 
asked  as  to  some  point  of  our  administration  in 
Egypt,  or  the  position  of  affairs  in  the  Balkans 
is  discussed  with  the  quick  intelligence,  lively 
imagination,  and  impetuous  reasoning  for  which 
the  Persian  is  noted. 

BiRJAND,  17th  November  1913. 
Dear  M., — I  am  making  my  new  quarters  com- 
fortable by  degrees,  and  have  just  ordered  a  carpet 
from  the  best  factory  in  the  district,  which  hap- 
pens to  adjoin  my  house.  I  inspected  the  factory 
a  fortnight  ago,  and,  after  looking  over  the  score 
of  hand-looms,  chose  a  '  creation '  that  was  near 
completion.  Later  it  appeared  that  the  carpet 
of  my  choice  was  already  sold,  so  I  have  com- 
missioned the  master-weaver  to  make  me  one  of 


24  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

a  certain  design  which  he  showed  me.  It  will 
measure  about  fourteen  square  yards,  will  take 
three  months  to  make,  and  will  cost  about  £25. 
It  will  be  of  wool  with  a  cotton  warp,  will  have 
about  ninety  loops  or  knots  to  the  square  inch, 
will  include  about  sixteen  colours  of  fast  dye,  and 
will  last  for  twenty  years  with  ordinary  wear. 

A  Persian  doesn't  mind  spending  money  on  his 
carpets,  for  he  sits  on  them,  prays  on  them,  and 
spreads  his  dinner-cloth  on  them,  so  that  when 
his  floors  are  well-covered  his  rooms  are  almost 
furnished.  Hence  the  excellence  of  the  craft. 
The  Persian  carpet  is  the  finest  in  the  world  in 
point  of  workmanship,  durability,  and  delicacy 
of  design  and  colouring.  Those  made  in  this  dis- 
trict average  a  fair  quality  and  have,  of  course, 
a  characteristic  style  of  their  own.  They  are 
nearly  all  brought  to  Birjand  and  then  sent  up 
to  Meshed  for  sale  and  export.  Directly  or  in- 
directly the  industry  supports  most  of  the  local 
population. 

I  have  been  reading  a  few  old  annual  Consular 
Reports  on  the  trade  of  the  district.  Possibly 
you  have  never  heard  of  such  things,  but  if  so, 
you  needn't  let  their  existence  disturb  you.  They 
are  very  dry  documents,  interesting  only  to  the 
British  Government  and  to  business  men  and 
people  who  compile  encyclopaedias.  In  case  you 
are  still  curious  as  to  what  they  are  like,  I  have 
paraphrased  one  for  you  in  the  roomy  manner  of 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  25 

the  ancients,  leaving  out  the  figures  and  statistical 
tables  (which  are  beyond  paraphrase),  and  adding 
a  few  facts  which  don't  concern  the  government 
or  their  consuls.  The  facts  are  as  true  as  I  can 
make  them,  but  by  way  of  relief  you  will  find  some 
local  colour  in  the  phraseology.     Here  follows. 

In  the  eastern  part  of  Persia  is  a  province  which 
is  called  the  Qayinat,  and  the  chief  town  of  this 
province  is  Birjand.  From  Birjand  if  a  man 
journey  northwards  he  will  reach  the  frontier  of 
this  province  in  three  or  four  days,  and  if  he 
travel  towards  the  rising  sun  he  will  come  in  six 
days  to  the  country  of  Afghanistan  ;  likewise  if 
he  go  by  the  south  road  he  will  arrive  in  six  days 
within  the  bounds  of  Seistan,  while  if  he  follow 
the  setting  sun  he  will  pass  by  the  edge  of  the 
great  desert  of  the  south-west — a  land  which  owns 
but  little  lordship. 

Now,  whereas  the  people  of  this  province  are 
not  above  two  hundred  thousand  in  number, 
there  are  in  the  chief  town,  which  is  Birjand,  full 
fifteen  thousand  souls  as  men  reckon.  Some 
count  themselves  as  having  Arabs  for  their  fore- 
fathers, and  for  the  rest  they  are  a  goodly  race, 
having  neither  the  poor  spirit  of  plain-dwellers 
nor  the  rude  disposition  of  hillmen.  In  all  the 
province  around  Birjand  are  places  of  small  re- 
pute :  in  the  valleys  and  plains  are  villages,  and 
the  largest  of  these  have  but  five  thousand  souls  : 
in  the  hills  and  on  the  mountain  sides  are  many 


26  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

hamlets,  where  water  is  hard  to  find  in  summer, 
and  hfe  is  a  difficult  thing  in  winter  by  reason  of 
the  cold  and  the  snow  that  falls.  The  people  of 
the  plains  are  tillers  of  the  soil  and  keepers  of 
flocks,  and  their  women  busy  themselves  with  the 
making  of  cloth  wherewith  the  people  clothe 
themselves.  Likewise  they  are  famous  weavers 
of  carpets,  both  the  village  people  and  the  outer 
tribes.  They  make  their  houses  of  earth  and 
plaster,  with  walls  of  exceeding  thickness,  and  the 
roof  of  each  room  is  curved  like  to  the  top  of  an 
egg,  for  the  land  is  a  dry  land  and  there  is  little 
timber  in  it  save  the  poplar  tree,  and  of  that  they 
make  their  doors  and  windows  and  pillars,  and 
beams  for  those  houses  that  have  the  flat  roof. 
Of  fruit  trees  in  their  gardens  there  is  the  almond 
tree  and  the  walnut  tree,  and  the  quince  and  the 
pomegranate,  and  also  the  mulberry  trees,  both 
that  of  which  the  silkworm  eats  and  the  other. 
And  in  their  gardens  and  fields  they  grow  cotton 
both  white  and  brown,  and  wheat  and  barley  and 
melons  and  opium  ;  and  the  poor  people  grow 
turnips,  whereof  they  make  their  food  in  winter 
time.  Of  the  wheat  they  make  their  brown  un- 
leavened bread,  and  within  these  ten  years  have 
they  grown  much  of  the  potato,  which  is  a  service- 
able bulb  that  a  man  may  use  with  meat  if  haply 
he  sicken  of  rice.  Also,  they  grow  much  fine 
saffron,  wherewith  they  dress  their  rice  and  their 
sweetmeats.     And  in  their  hills  and  valleys  is 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  27 

much  rare  growth  whereof  the  seeds  and  gums 
yield  matter  for  trade.  For  their  meat  they  eat 
of  the  flesh  of  sheep  and  goats,  and  they  plough 
their  fields  with  oxen.  Of  mines  they  have  slight 
art,  lacking  the  means  thereto  of  western  races, 
but  some  hold  that  there  is  certain  wealth  of 
copper  and  iron  and  such  like  in  their  mountains. 
Their  salt  they  take  from  the  rock  and  from  the 
desert.  For  their  fires  they  burn  the  wood  of  the 
tamarisk  and  the  jujube  and  other  trees,  having 
no  coal.  They  have  no  railways,  nor  have  they 
knowledge  of  steam  power.  Of  carriages  their 
wealthy  men  possess  but  three  or  four  among 
them,  and  for  the  rest  they  ride  from  place  to 
place  on  horses  or  mules  or  asses. 

For  their  industry,  we  have  spoken  of  it ;  for 
their  enterprise,  it  is  put  forth  in  trade ;  for  their 
pleasure,  it  is  in  the  possession  of  lands,  whereto 
they  dispose  the  profits  of  their  labour.  But  as 
to  the  trading  of  the  townspeople,  the  highways 
can  tell  of  it,  for  there  the  beasts  of  burden  pass 
with  their  loads.  From  the  north  come  camels 
and  mules  in  plenty  to  Birjand,  bringing  oil  and 
sugar  from  Russia,  bringing  rice  from  Sabzevar, 
and  from  Khurasan  the  silk  that  goes  down  to 
India.  Also  their  eating  and  drinking  vessels  and 
their  lamps  they  bring  from  Russia,  and  cloth  of 
wool  and  cotton.  And  when  the  camels  and 
mules  have  been  eased  of  their  burden  and  have 
taken  rest,  they  return  to  Khurasan  with  rich 


28  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

bales  of  carpets  and  much  wool  and  cotton  and 
saffron,  and  the  merchandise  of  India,  and  the 
hair  of  goats  and  the  skins  of  foxes. 

But  from  the  south  the  camels  come  slowly  out 
of  far-off  Hindustan,  journeying  for  many  moons. 
And  they  bring  much  of  the  wealth  of  India  and 
of  Europe,  even  much  fine  cloth  of  wool  and  of 
cotton,  and  yarn  for  the  making  of  carpets,  and 
dyes  for  the  colouring  of  their  wool,  and  copper 
for  the  making  of  pots.  Tea  also  they  bring  from 
India,  and  likewise  coffee  and  sweet  -  smelling 
spices  :  also  a  thousand  things  whereof  a  man  has 
need  in  these  times,  and  of  which  the  foreigners 
alone  have  the  art.  And  they  journey  by  way  of 
Seistan,  which  is  a  country  of  winds  and  dust  and 
great  heat.  And  from  the  reed  pastures  of  Seistan 
they  bring  fair  tale  of  good  cattle  and  sheep,  and 
from  their  plains  they  bring  sacks  of  wheat  for 
the  bread  of  the  people.  And  anon  the  camels 
return  by  countless  marches  to  India,  bearing 
precious  bales  of  silk,  and  also  gums  and  almonds 
and  other  fruits  of  hill  and  plain. 

Now  of  the  government  of  this  people  we  would 
speak,  and  of  their  manner  of  life.  And,  firstly, 
of  their  faith,  for  that  they  are  all  good  Moham- 
medans of  one  sect  or  another,  having  among 
their  number  neither  Jew  nor  Armenian,  nor  yet 
Parsee  ;  and  their  priests  are  men  of  piety  and 
wise  circumspection,  not  such  as  incite  the 
common  people  to  fractiousness   and  dissension. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  29 

Of  their  governor  they  have  just  pride,  for  he  is 
descended  from  many  generations  of  rulers  of 
men,  and  his  justice  and  benevolence  are  matters 
of  praise  and  thanksgiving;  and  he  excels  in 
manly  sports  as  is  becoming  to  princes.  Of 
tribute  they  pay  to  the  Treasury  in  Teheran 
yearly  according  to  their  land,  but  the  hire  of  their 
men-at-arms  is  paid  by  the  Treasury.  Notwith- 
standing, they  are  slow  of  payment  and  have  no 
liking  for  the  collectors  of  revenue.  Of  their 
manners  and  ways,  they  are  as  those  of  other 
Persians,  yet  less  changed  from  the  traditions  of 
their  fathers,  for  they  live  still  much  apart  from 
the  outer  world  ;  and  they  speak  on  occasions 
amongst  themselves  in  a  barbarous  dialect,  and 
have  strange  customs.  For  their  virtues,  they 
exceed  indeed  their  vices,  but  of  corruption  and 
evil  they  have  such  as  all  men  have,  being,  before 
all,  great  smokers  of  burnt  opium,  so  that  if  the 
truth  be  told  they  are  in  great  number  enslaved 
by  it,  even  to  the  destruction  of  their  bodies  and 
souls.  For  the  rest  they  breathe  a  pure  air  which 
breeds  but  little  disease. 

Truly  they  are  a  pleasant,  peace-loving,  and 
docile  people,  thrifty  in  their  households  and  as 
honest  in  their  dealings  as  a  man  may  well  expect. 

BiRjAND,  2Mh  November  1918. 
Dear  M., — So  you  are  back  in  town,  and  you 
are  sorry  for  me  for  being  out  of  civilisation. 


30  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Well,  you  know  how  London  attracts  me  when  I 
have  escaped  from  it,  fogs  and  wet  streets  and 
chilly  Sundays  and  all.  It  is  an  attraction  made 
up  of  many  things.  In  many  ways  it  is  really  an 
irrational  allurement — a  fine  stimulant  to  the 
imagination  and  energy,  if  you  like,  but  you  know 
the  danger  of  stimulants. 

When  a  Persian  thinks  of  England  he  thinks  of 
London,  and  when  he  thinks  of  London  he  thinks 
of  its  bigness,  its  wonderful  railways  and  motors, 
its  free  institutions,  its  hotels,  its  theatres  and 
other  places  of  entertainment,  its  thousand  and 
one  opportunities  of  public  amusement,  distrac- 
tion, and  dissipation.  And  he  sighs  for  his  own 
country,  so  poor  in  these  respects.  But  why 
should  he  sigh  ?  There  are  no  cities  in  Persia, 
and  likewise  there  are  no  slums  ;  no  steam-driven 
industries,  and  therefore  none  of  the  mechanical 
tyranny  that  deadens  the  brain,  starves  the 
heart,  and  wearies  body  and  mind  with  its  mon- 
otony :  there  are  no  railways  and  no  factory 
chimneys,  but  there  is  fresh  air  for  every  one  who 
wants  it,  though  occasionally  you  do  step  across  a 
dead  dog  in  the  street.  There  is  no  gas  and  no 
electricity,  but  is  not  the  glow  of  oil-lamps 
pleasanter  ?  There  is  less  publicity  and  less  co- 
operation, and  therefore  a  freer  individualism  in 
some  ways.  1  could  go  on  like  that,  but  my 
conscience  cries  halt.  The  Persian  newspapers 
have  been  telling  their  readers  for  years  that  what 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  31 

they  lack  is  public  spirit — the  spirit  of  co-opera- 
tion. Well-meaning  foreigners  have  asked  them 
why  they  do  not  organise  trade  guilds  and  mer- 
chant guilds  as  Europeans  did  in  their  Middle 
Ages.  They  reply  that  they  are  too  fond  of 
intrigue,  that  they  suspect  each  other  too  much, 
that  their  standard  of  business  morality  is  too 
uncertain,  that  their  ideas  are  too  volatile.  The 
Persian  likes  advice,  but  has  always  a  fairly  sane 
reason  for  not  accepting  it. 

I  have  given  you  the  educated  provincial's  con- 
crete idea  of  England,  of  Europe.  His  abstract 
conception  is  of  course  a  nobler  one.  He  thinks 
of  us  as  people  who  are  wisely  and  honestly 
governed,  who  are  secure  in  their  possessions, 
rational  in  their  habits,  broad-minded  in  their 
views,  and  reliable  in  their  actions.  Above  all,  he 
thinks  of  us  as  those  to  whom  science  and  know- 
ledge have  brought  a  larger,  fuller  life.  He  sees 
the  complex  and  innumerable  products  of  our 
civilisation,  and  he  envies  us  not  only  for  the 
comforts  they  bring,  but  for  the  intellectual 
command  of  these  things.  Arguing  somewhat 
from  his  own  case,  he  imagines  us  as  having  and 
delighting  in  a  just  knowledge  and  comprehension 
of  the  history,  constitution,  and  bearing  relation  of 
all  the  material  paraphernalia  of  our  lives.  Just 
think  for  a  moment  what  that  means. 

To  return  to  my  comparisons.  What  impresses 
me  daily  here  bj^  contrast  is  the  ignorance  of  us 


32  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

European  town-dwellers  in  matters  of  daily 
practice.  The  Persian  has  little  art  and  less 
science  ;  his  technical  knowledge  is  traditional, 
and  is  concerned  with  simple  crafts  and  forms  of 
labour.  His  work  is  done  in  open  booths  in  the 
streets,  or  in  the  fields  around  his  town  or  village  ; 
his  merchandise  is  borne  on  the  open  highways. 
So  if  a  boy  would  learn  the  weaving  of  cloth,  he 
has  but  to  watch  the  weaver  or  take  his  place  at 
the  loom  ;  cotton-ginning,  wool-spinning,  and  the 
dyeing  of  yarns  are  familiar  sights  to  him.  If  he 
would  become  a  hatter,  behold  !  there  sits  the 
maker  of  hats  at  his  work,  and  you  may  stand  in 
front  of  his  shop  and  watch  him  till  you  are  tired. 
When  your  servant  goes  to  the  baker  for  bread,  or 
to  the  confectioner  for  sweetmeats,  he  sees  how 
everything  is  made  and  what  it  is  made  of.  He 
knows  where  the  wheat  comes  from  and  how  it  is 
milled  ;  where  the  sugar  comes  from,  and  the  tea  ; 
where  the  nuts  and  fruits  are  grown,  and  when  the 
potatoes  he  buys  were  dug.  Also,  if  he  is  a  wide- 
awake fellow,  he  knows  the  price  of  land  in  the 
neighbourhood,  and  the  crop  seasons  and  methods 
of  agriculture,  and  he  knows  the  big  merchants 
and  what  they  deal  in  and  how  they  do  it.  He 
can  tell  you  how  your  house  was  built — how  the 
bricks  were  made  and  the  plaster  prepared,  what 
sort  of  timber  was  used  and  where  it  was  grown — 
what  were  the  labourers'  wages,  how  many  hours 
a  day  they  worked,  and  what  they  had  for  dinner. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  53 

He  has  some  knowledge  of  the  customary  law  and 
the  ordinary  forms  and  procedure  of  administra- 
tion, taxation,  and  justice.  He  knows  nothing, 
of  course,  of  the  making  of  foreign  products,  but 
he  is  a  fair  judge  of  the  finished  article.  Of  every- 
thing that  is  done  in  his  own  town  he  has  an 
inkling.  But  who  of  us  can  say  the  same  ?  Our 
commerce  is  so  multifarious  that  only  those 
engaged  in  it  know  anything  about  it ;  our  arts 
and  industries  are  founded  on  such  an  array  of 
sciences  that  only  those  who  have  made  them  a 
special  study  can  understand  the  processes  in- 
volved. We  organise  exhibitions  to  teach  the 
people  how  things  are  made,  and  we  stock 
museums  with  everything  under  the  sun  ;  but  the 
people  resort  to  exhibitions  for  other  reasons,  and 
none  of  us  ever  admits  having  visited  a  museum. 
Is  it  not  so  ?  Are  we  not  stupendously  and 
boastfully  ignorant  ? 

We  discussed  all  this,  you  remember,  in  the 
middle  of  an  afternoon's  golf  four  months  ago, 
and  continued  the  argument  over  a  cup  of  tea  in 
the  club-house.  You  said  that  in  the  country 
people  know  more  about  these  things,  that  they 
have  more  leisure  and  use  their  eyes  and  ears 
better  and  keep  their  memories  fresher.  But  how 
many  country  residents  have  an  intelligent  under- 
standing of  their  neighbours'  occupations  ?  The 
division  of  labour  has  put  us  all  into  cells,  and  the 
wall  between  our  cell  and  the  next  one  has  no 


34  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

windows.  *  Ah,  but,'  you  say,  '  we  climb  a  tower 
occasionally  and  look  around  us.'  And  what  do 
we  see  ?  Nothing  but  roof-tops.  So  much  for 
general  observation  and  musing  on  things  at 
large. 

But  I  expect  that,  having  read  so  far,  you  are 
very  cross  with  me.  So  I  will  leave  it  at  that,  for 
you  know  you  look  charming  when  you  are  cross. 

BiRJAND,  1*^  December  1913. 

Dear  M., — You  ask  me  what  the  women  in 
Persia  are  like.  But  have  I  not  told  you  that  I 
know  nothing  about  them  ?  I  have  not  ex- 
changed ten  words  with  a  native  of  your  sex  in 
this  country,  except  in  one  case.  That  was  in 
Teheran,  and  the  lady  in  question  was  wrinkled, 
stout  and  short  of  breath,  and  had  a  voice  like 
the  rattle  of  cart-wheels  over  a  cobbled  road. 
She  was  my  washerwoman,  and  the  gossip  of 
the  quarter.  A  kindly  old  soul  indeed,  but 
much  given  to  scandal- monger ing,  like  many 
another. 

But  the  women  of  Persia  !  You  have  seen 
photographs  of  them  :  soft  and  flabby  beings, 
with  pallid  complexions,  round  faces,  and  large, 
limpid  eyes.  In  their  houses  they  never  appear 
when  their  men-folk  have  visitors.  In  the  streets 
they  go  shrouded  from  head  to  foot  in  their  ugly 
black-blue  or  white  cotton  overalls,  and  even  the 
veriest  hag  will  veil  her  face  with  her  robe  at  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  85 

approach  of  a  foreigner.  The  young  and  pretty 
ones  make  play  with  their  veils  sometimes.  They 
know  their  security,  and  make  bold  to  challenge 
the  foreigner's  eyes  with  their  own  great  laughing 
orbs. 

But  please  don't  imagine  that  they  are  all  dolls, 
made  for  love  and  coquetry  and  idle  vanity.  I 
have  seen  (in  Shiraz)  a  turbulent  tribe  numbering 
scores  of  thousands  controlled  during  months  of 
incessant  fighting  by  the  wife  of  its  fugitive  chief 
— a  capable  woman,  by  all  accounts,  with  a  head 
for  affairs,  and  the  power  and  authority  to  com- 
mand respect.  Others  are  like  her  in  their  degree, 
and  probably  most  of  them  are  just  as  hard- 
working and  intelligent  as  their  husbands  in  their 
own  sphere.  It  is  the  tribal  women  who  make  the 
little  woollen  rugs  that  are  bought  and  sold  in 
thousands  here  every  year,  and  it  is  the  women  of 
this  district  who  weave  the  goats'  hair  cloth  for 
the  garments  of  their  men. 

Birjand  has  an  unusual  number  of  beggar- 
women,  young  and  old,  and  every  day  I  am 
assailed  by  their  shrill  entreaties.  I  am  told  that 
in  most  cases  opium,  directly  or  indirectly,  has 
led  to  their  undoing. 

For  the  rest  of  womankind,  I  am  now  and  then 
reminded  of  their  existence.  My  cook,  an  active 
and  clever  young  rogue  who  plays  football  and 
prepares  a  savoury  equally  well,  petitioned  me  a 
fortnight  ago  for  leave  to  marry.     The  request 


36  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

was  made  through  my  boy  one  evening  as  I  sat 
at  dinner.  Cookie  had  come  with  me  from 
Meshed,  and  had  left  a  wife  there,  so  I  told  my 
boy  to  call  him  up,  and  he  appeared  before  me  as 
I  was  having  my  coffee.  '  Ali  Akbar,'  said  I,  '  I 
am  told  that  you  want  to  marry.'  '  Yes,  sahib.' 
'  What  has  happened  to  the  wife  you  left  in 
Meshed  ?  '  'I  divorced  her,  sahib,  before  I  came 
away.'  '  You  did  not  tell  me  that  before  ?  '  '  The 
divorce  was  only  in  case  she  did  not  follow  me  here 
in  a  month's  time.'  '  You  did  not  send  her  money 
to  enable  her  to  come  ?  '  '  Her  father  and  mother 
are  here,  sahib,  and  they  won't  let  her  come.  She 
is  a  bad  woman.'  '  She  had  been  already  divorced 
when  you  married  her  ?  '  '  Yes,  sahib.  She  is 
an  evil  character,  but  I  didn't  know  that  when  I 
married  her.'  '  You  did  not  make  proper  in- 
quiries first  ?  '  'I  was  young  and  lonely,  sahib. 
I  have  no  father  or  mother.'  '  Have  you  a  writing 
for  the  divorce  ?  '  '  No,  sahib.  The  priest  who 
made  the  document  keeps  it  himself.'  '  Well,  you 
made  a  mistake  in  that  marriage.  You  are  still  a 
stranger  in  Birjand.  Are  you  going  to  make 
another  mistake  ?  '  '  No,  sahib.  The  father  of 
this  girl  is  a  respectable  man.  She  is  fourteen  years 
old  and  has  already  been  married  and  divorced.' 
'  What !  another  divorced  girl  ?  '  '  Yes,  sahib. 
Her  husband  went  to  Yezd,  and  her  father  and 
mother  wouldn't  let  her  go  with  him,  so  she  was 
divorced,  and  lives  quietly  in  her  father's  house. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  37 

They  are  very  respectable  people,  and  she  has 
twenty  pounds'  worth  of  household  goods  of  her 
own.'  '  I  see  you  know  all  about  it.  But  you 
are  in  a  great  hurry.  You  had  better  be  careful 
this  time.  When  do  you  want  to  marry  ?  '  *  To- 
night, sahib.'  '  Oho !  to-night,  indeed  ?  '  '  Yes, 
sahib.  The  priest  is  waiting  in  the  house.'  'Allah 
is  great !  And  you  come  now  to  ask  my  per- 
mission ?  '  'If  you  do  not  allow  it,  sahib,  I  will 
send  the  priest  away.'  '  Quite  so.  Well,  your 
guests  will  be  waiting.  Go  and  get  married  and 
be  happy,  bless  you.'  '  May  your  kindness  be 
increased.  I  have  a  further  petition,  sahib.' 
'  What  is  it  ?  '  'I  beg  that  you  will  let  me  have 
the  gramafoon  for  this  evening.' 

The  artful  wretch,  you  see,  was  careful  to  ask 
my  permission  to  marry — in  order  that  he  might 
be  able  to  entertain  his  wedding  party  with  strange 
foreign  music. 

Next  evening  my  boy,  with  due  relish  of  the 
situation,  informed  me  that  the  cook's  former 
wife  had  just  arrived  from  Meshed.  It  looked  as 
if  trouble  was  in  store,  and  sure  enough  the 
divorced  one's  father  came  to  me  on  the  following 
day  with  a  complaint  against  my  cook,  and,  of 
course,  a  different  version  of  the  story.  I  sent  the 
aggrieved  parent  away  with  a  promise  to  hear 
both  sides  of  the  case  together.  More  interviews 
followed,  and  some  days  later  I  learned  that  the 
parties  had  made  friends  and  that  the  first  wife — 


38  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

the  lady  of  dubious  character — had  found  another 
husband.  Truly,  in  one  respect  at  least,  Birjand 
is  not  Heaven. 

Birjand,  6th  December  1918. 

Dear  M., — We  are  into  the  first  days  of  Muhar- 
ram,  the  Shieh  month  of  mourning,  and  there  is 
much  beating  of  breasts  in  unison  (a  fine  exhila- 
rating exercise  in  this  cold  weather)  and  shouting 
of  the  names  of  the  prophet's  martyred  grandsons. 
The  shops  are  half  shut,  and  the  people  flock  to 
the  courtyards  where  religious  plays  are  being 
performed.  The  trumpet  sounds,  the  costumed 
actors  declaim  in  tragic  verse,  the  white-robed 
women  sob  in  loud  and  piteous  chorus,  and  the 
passing  foreigner  even  is  affected  by  the  apparent 
keenness  and  fervour  of  this  annual  emotional 
outburst.  They  are  easily  touched,  these  people  ; 
and  in  truth  the  scenes  depicted  at  the  culmi- 
nating points  of  the  great  drama  of  martyrdom  are 
heart-rending  in  their  crude  realism.  The  actors 
are  dressed  in  the  supposed  Arab  costumes  and 
armour  of  the  seventh  century ;  they  have  no 
scenery,  and  for  all  music  there  is  little  but  the 
fateful  blare  of  the  trumpet  and  the  beat  of  drums. 
Even  so,  perhaps,  did  the  mediaeval  Church  im- 
press the  history  of  its  great  passion  on  followers 
of  the  Christian  faith.  Tragedy,  of  course,  is 
relieved  by  lighter  entertainments,  and  occasion- 
ally the  comic  element  is  introduced  as  it  was  by 
us  in  the  Middle  Ages. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  39 

These  plays  are  the  only  theatre  the  Persians 
possess.  But  their  country  blossoms  with  poets 
of  another  quality,  whose  mystic  and  erotic  verse 
is  read  and  quoted  everywhere.  Their  odes  and 
songs  of  love  and  wine  and  pleasure  are  recited 
and  sung  at  private  entertainments  in  every  large 
town  by  troupes  of  professional  dancers  and 
musicians.  Birjand  is  not  a  large  town,  and 
Birjand  has  no  professional  musicians,  but  be- 
tween ourselves  it  is  none  the  worse  for  that. 
One  of  the  local  bigwigs  produced  a  native  zither 
when  I  called  on  him  the  other  day,  and  enter- 
tained me  with  a  few  Persian  pieces.  He  didn't 
sing,  of  course.  Singing  is  not  a  polite  accomplish- 
ment from  the  Persians'  point  of  view,  among 
men  at  least. 

They  are  very  fond  of  the  gramophone — a 
depraved  taste,  you  will  say.  The  ordinary  folks 
like  the  records  of  Persian  music,  which  they 
understand.  The  enlightened  young  men  of  the 
better  classes  pretend  sometimes  to  an  educated 
preference  for  European  songs,  but  one  rather 
doubts  their  sincerity. 

My  own  instrument — a  borrowed  one,  by  the 
way — is  old-fashioned  and  musty  and  broken- 
voiced.  The  records,  like  the  books  in  a  circula- 
ting library,  are  a  fair  indication  of  the  average 
man's  taste.  There  is  a  little  of  everything,  from 
Mozart  to  musical  comedy,  from  Caruso  to  coon- 
songs.     The  Persians  like  one  kind  as  much  as 


40  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

another,  which  is  to  say  that  they  listen  and  enjoy 
in  their  own  fashion  without  understanding. 
How  could  they  understand,  when  the  very  idea 
of  harmony,  musical  or  mental,  social  or  political, 
is  somewhat  new  and  strange  to  them  ? 

BiRjAND,  11th  December  1918. 

Dear  M., — I  have  been  out  on  a  week-end 
shooting  excursion — a  dash  into  the  hills  and  back. 
All  little  towns  get  grubby  at  times,  and  Birjand 
is  no  exception,  so  off  we  go  with  a  rifle  and  a 
shikari  for  a  breath  of  mountain  air  and  a  sight  of 
fresh  wild  things.  The  wild  things,  of  course, 
include  goat-herds  and  woodcutters  and  charcoal- 
burners,  and  others  of  the  pagan  fraternity.  As 
for  game,  the  pretty  little  gazelle  skips  around  on 
the  open  plains  within  reach  of  a  day's  ride.  The 
fleet  wild  ass  is  farther  away,  and  the  leopard 
lurks  uncertainly  in  the  mountains  where  the 
giddy  ibex  tosses  his  head  at  the  prowler.  In  the 
hills  near  the  town  there  is  the  wild  sheep  that 
roams  in  the  lower  ranges  and  plays  havoc  with 
the  melon- fields  in  late  autumn. 

Naturally  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  get  a  good 
shikari.  I  have  bagged  quite  a  good  one — a 
sturdy  little  slouching  fellow  of  twenty-three  or 
so,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  a  perpetual  smile.  His 
name  is  Sultan,  and  he  is  one  of  the  Ismaili  sect 
whose  religious  head  is  the  Agha  Khan  of  India, 
and  whose  local  headquarters  are  at  the  village  of 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  41 

Sihdeh.  I  sent  Sultan  a  message  on  Thursday, 
and  on  Saturday  morning  sent  the  cook  ahead  on 
a  mule  with  the  baggage  to  a  village  seven  miles 
away.  In  the  afternoon  I  rode  out  with  my  syce, 
arriving  just  before  sunset.  The  hamlet  was  as 
squalid  as  we  could  ask  for ;  it  was  bitterly  cold 
after  sundown,  and  there  wasn't  a  stable  in  the 
place,  so  we  had  to  knock  a  lot  of  wall  ,away  from 
the  doorways  of  two  rooms  to  let  the  ponies  in. 
I  was  housed  in  a  room  with  no  windows  and  with 
a  door  three  feet  high.  There  was  a  fireplace  and 
chimney  however,  so  we  soon  had  the  thorns 
crackling,  and  with  a  lamp  and  a  volume  of 
Gibbon  I  passed  the  time  comfortably  till  early 
bed. 

Next  morning  we  were  on  the  march  before 
sunrise.  An  hour  later  we  were  scouting  in  the 
hills,  and  Sultan,  who  had  climbed  to  the  top  of  a 
range  and  was  lying  flat  with  his  eyes  on  the  prowl, 
turned  his  head  to  me.  '  He  has  seen  a  few  tame 
goats,'  I  thought,  as  I  drew  level  and  fumbled  for 
my  glass.  He  whispered  the  direction  in  his 
dialect,  and  I  followed  it  as  best  I  could,  seeing 
many  things  which  might  have  been  sheep  but 
turned  out  to  be  boulders.  I  grew  hot  with 
shame  and  called  myself  a  blind  fool  to  be  out 
with  a  rifle.  Eventually  I  picked  them  up — 
brown  forms  with  white  tail-spots — one,  two, 
three,  four,  five.  Ah  ha  !  And  one  of  them  had 
horns   on   his   head.     But  a   long    distance   off. 


42  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Away  scuttled  the  shikari  do^vnhill,  and  I  slithered 
after  him,  up  and  down  by  the  way  we  had  come, 
then  round  and  along  for  half  an  hour  till  we  came 
out  on  top  of  a  rise  and  crawled  up  to  eye-level. 
The  sheep  were  there,  a  hundred  yards  nearer, 
but  (I  won't  say  whose  fault  it  was)  they  were  all 
standing  still  and  gazing  in  our  direction.  So  we 
lay  there,  moving  nothing  but  our  eyes,  and  wait- 
ing for  the  ram  to  show  a  broadside.  It  occurred 
to  me  that  the  shikari,  crouching  on  the  hilltop 
with  his  hat  off  and  a  headcloth  bound  across  his 
forehead,  looked  finer  than  anything  I  had  ever 
seen  on  canvas — w  hich  was  natural  enough,  and  a 
poor  comparison  at  that.  By  and  by  the  sheep 
appeared  to  get  the  order  to  stand  easy,  for  they 
took  to  grazing  again.  I  was  cautiously  preparing 
for  a  shot  when  the  gentleman  with  the  horns  lay 
down  and  spoiled  my  chance.  At  that  my  gillie 
backed  downhill  again,  and  we  made  another 
detour  to  a  knoll  of  bare  ground  that  came  out 
sixty  yards  from  the  sheep.  An  absurd  distance, 
I  thought,  as  I  looked  for  some  vantage-ground 
on  top  of  the  knoll.  We  crept  like  burglars  to  a 
piece  of  camel-thorn,  making  snakes  of  ourselves 
as  we  got  near  the  top.  Then  I  settled  on  my  left 
elbow,  brought  my  rifle  forward,  and  raised  my 
head.  There  he  was  facing  me.  As  my  head 
rose  he  leapt,  and  my  hasty  shot  missed  his  tail 
as  he  disappeared  round  a  corner,  with  all  the 
harem  after  him.     Alas  !   I  knew  it,  and  now  he 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  48 

was  gone.  Sultan  turned  his  clear  brown  eyes 
on  me,  and  I  called  myself  names.  A  greenhorn, 
a  deliberative  blunderer,  a  gawky  fool  to  come 
shooting  ! 

An  hour  later  we  were  on  the  top  of  the  highest 
peak  of  this  little  range,  and  there  in  the  valley 
below  was  a  group  of  brown  things,  standing  all 
together,  undecided  which  way  to  move.  They 
had  heard  or  smelt  danger.  The  distance  was 
uncertain,  and  without  using  my  glass  I  could 
just  make  out  a  ram  in  the  middle.  Sultan 
doesn't  bother  about  heads  and  would  have  me 
bang  off  into  the  group.  He  thinks  of  his  melon- 
crops  and  the  pot,  and  he  kept  urging  me.  So  I 
sighted  for  250  yards,  covered  the  ram  just  behind 
those  half- invisible  horns,  and — bang  !  Result  ? 
Missed  again,  fathead  !  Off  went  the  lot.  But 
they  hadn't  gone  twenty  yards  when  Sultan 
shouted  '  Quch  uftad  !  '  and  away  he  dashed 
down  the  perilous  slope  with  a  cartload  of  loosened 
stones  rattling  after  him,  and  myself  bumping 
along  in  his  rear. 

The  ram  had  dropped  with  a  little  hole  in  his 
side  and  his  chest  ripped  open.  The  females 
halted  within  easy  distance,  watching  us  as  we 
stood  over  him.  They  simply  wouldn't  fly,  and 
Sultan  was  all  for  reducing  their  number.  But 
I  had  had  enough,  and  sat  down  trembling 
while  he  rolled  up  his  sleeves  like  a  butcher  and 
drew  a  hunting-knife  from  his  sash.     He  looked 


44  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

thoroughly  happy  now,  and  I  was  pleased,  and 
listened  with  a  smile  to  his  repeated  exclamations 
of  satisfaction.  He  cleaned  the  animal  deftly, 
skinned  the  hind  legs  and  tied  them  together  with 
the  loose  skin.  Then  he  dragged  it  to  a  little 
pool  and  washed  the  gore  from  it  and  from  his 
arms.  The  ram's  eyes  were  glazed  and  he  seemed 
to  have  shrunk.  Only  a  three-year-old,  but  what 
matter  ?  It  was  my  first  shot  at  anything  bigger 
than  a  hare,  and  I  would  not  return  empty-handed. 
So  we  had  lunch,  and  drank  what  we  had  with  us, 
there  being  no  sweet  water  near.  And  I  smoked 
a  cigarette  and  thought  many  thoughts,  counting 
myself  by  turns  a  joyous  savage,  a  contemptible 
slaughterer,  a  great  shikari,  and  a  conceited  ass. 
I  finished  by  giving  Sultan  a  present  and  telling 
him  to  shoulder  the  game,  and  we  set  off  down 
the  valley  at  one  o'clock.  Sultan  leading  by  easy 
tracks  along  the  level,  with  the  beast  dangling 
its  legs  and  flopping  its  head  behind  him,  and  I 
following  in  his  wake — a  pretty  picture  for  the 
disconsolate  ewes,  which  were  still  watching 
us  from  the  distance,  looking  for  their  dead 
lord. 

In  an  hour  and  a  half  we  reached  the  horses  at 
a  place  appointed  for  them  to  be  in  waiting.  The 
game  was  strapped  behind  the  saddle  of  my 
groom's  pony,  and  so  we  rode  for  the  town. 
When  we  got  home,  Cookie,  who  had  returned 
in   the   morning,  was   waiting   in   the  doorway. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  45 

He  smiled  his  congratulations,  eyed  the  corpse 
lovingly,  and  took  it  in.  The  sheep  bobbed  his 
head  for  the  last  time,  and  then  lay  still  and  cold 
in  the  compound. 

BiRjAND,  23rd  March  1914. 

Dear  M., — ^The  Duke,  the  Amir,  the  great  man, 
has  arrived  from  the  capital,  with  his  men-at-arms 
and  his  train  of  followers.  Which  is  to  say  that 
the  Governor  has  returned  from  Teheran.  There 
was  a  great  stir  and  clamour  at  his  coming,  as  you 
may  imagine,  for  I  have  told  you  how  popular  he 
is,  and  you  know  that  a  provincial  ruler  is  a  power- 
ful man  in  Persia.  The  town  had  a  field-day  for 
his  entry,  and  did  no  work  for  three  days,  most 
of  the  chief  people  having  ridden  out  thirty  miles 
to  welcome  him  and  escort  him  in.  X.  and  I 
sent  him  letters  of  salutation  with  mounted 
representatives  who  joined  his  escort.  He  must 
have  been  very  tired,  I  'm  afraid,  though  very 
happy,  for  was  he  not  returning  to  the  home  of 
his  fathers  and  the  people  his  fathers  had  ruled 
for  generations,  and  had  he  not  been  honoured  by 
the  Shah  and  given  an  addition  to  the  territories 
under  his  administration  ?  So  the  band  played 
and  the  horses  pranced  and  his  carriage  rolled 
past  the  town  and  across  the  plain  to  his  house  a 
couple  of  miles  away.  There  he  had  a  great 
reception,  with  mullas  uttering  benedictions  and 
poets  reciting  odes.     On  the  following  afternoon 


46  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

I  called  on  him  and  drank  tea  and  exchanged 
polite  remarks.  He  is  a  tall,  lean  man  of  about 
thirty-three,  with  fine-cut,  mobile,  Arab  features, 
a  prominent  nose,  and  a  sallow  complexion.  His 
voice  is  soft,  his  speech  clear  and  rapid.  His 
bearing  is  unaffected,  and  his  manners  are  full 
of  restrained  vivacity  and  natural  courtesy  and 
gentleness.  He  is  evidently  a  man  of  keen  per- 
ceptions, with  an  active  mind  and  a  marked 
individuality,  for  which  the  gods  be  praised.  He 
was  accompanied  by  three  young  officials — one  of 
them  our  stout,  ruddy-faced  prince  of  the  blood 
royal,  the  other  two,  just  arrived  with  the  Amir, 
being  a  vigorous  and  honest-looking  officer  of 
cavalry  and  a  revenue  collector.  The  last  has  an 
incipient  beard,  but  the  others,  including  the  Amir, 
are  cleanshaven  but  for  their  moustaches,  which 
a  Persian  never  on  any  account  shaves.  The 
revenue  collector  didn't  seem  at  all  pleased  at  the 
idea  of  living  in  such  a  hopeless  little  hole  as 
Birjand,  and  he  even  said  as  much.  The  Amir,  of 
course,  showed  no  sign  that  he  didn't  like  the 
remark,  which  somebody  else  countered  by  asking 
the  tired  one  if  he  had  not  come  here  to  have  an 
occupation,  and  to  be,  in  a  sense,  a  guest. 

My  visit  was  returned  a  few  days  afterwards, 
when  the  Amir  told  me  he  was  getting  his  tennis- 
court  ready  and  hoped  we  would  meet  there  once 
a  week  and  be  good  friends. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  47 

BiRjAND,  22nd  May  1914. 

Dear  M., — I  have  been  out  on  a  week-end  visit 
to  the  south-east,  seeking  change,  exercise,  and 
adventure,  just  as  you  do  at  home.  There  is  no 
change  or  adventure  to  be  had  in  town,  and  no 
exercise  but  tennis,  which  we  play  about  twice  a 
week.  So  having  heard  of  a  wonderful  cave  which 
was  of  unknown  extent  and  held  many  mysteries 
(including  skeletons  in  open  coffins),  I  gave  the 
rein  to  my  curiosity  and  rode  off  one  afternoon  like 
a  knight  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Towards  sunset  I 
arrived  at  Noufrist,  a  fair-sized  garden- village  at 
the  foot  of  the  hills  about  seventeen  miles  away. 
My  cook,  on  a  mule,  had  preceded  me  by  some 
hours,  and  had  walked  in  on  an  old  merchant 
friend  of  his  master's  with  the  alarming  news  that 
I  was  coming  on  behind  and  would  be  his  guest 
for  the  night. 

The  dear  old  man  was  quite  composed  when  I 
turned  up,  and  we  had  a  cheery  tea-talk  together, 
after  which  we  strolled  about  his  orchard-garden. 
The  almonds,  alas,  had  just  been  nipped  by  frost, 
but  Haji  took  a  comforting  pride  in  his  peach, 
apricot,  and  cherry  trees,  and  his  patches  of  green 
barley  and  lucerne.  We  had  our  evening  meal 
early,  as  I  knew  my  host  liked  to  go  to  bed  be- 
times and  get  up  for  his  prayers  before  sunrise. 
He  told  me  all  about  his  carpet  factory,  which  was 
established  in  Noufrist  and  which  he  had  come 


48  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

out  from  Birjand  to  look  after  for  a  while.  We 
discussed  prices  and  materials  and  workers,  and 
I  realised  that,  apart  from  moneymaking,  this 
modest  capitalist  of  the  old  school  was  happy  in 
the  knowledge  that  the  hand-looms  owned  by  him 
provided  bread  for  the  mouths  of  over  a  hundred 
boys  and  men.  We  talked  about  the  increase  in 
the  cost  of  living  owing  to  higher  standards,  and 
he  described  to  me  the  simple  life  of  forty  years 
ago  when  food  was  cheap  and  foreign  luxuries 
were  unknown.  That  brought  us  to  the  subject 
of  longevity,  and  he  assured  me  that  he  himself 
had  seen  two  cases  of  men  whose  sight  had  im- 
proved a  little  after  they  had  passed  their  hun- 
dredth year,  and  whose  empty  gums  had  at  the 
same  time  produced  some  new  teeth.  As  Haji 
is  very  honest  and  intelligent  and  never  talks 
nonsense,  I  had  to  believe  him.  He  has  a  title, 
given  him  by  the  Governor,  which  means  Chief  of 
the  Merchants,  and  that  is  actually  his  position. 
He  is  a  shrewd  and  quick-witted  old  man,  frugal 
and  regular  in  his  habits  and  observances,  and 
gifted  with  much  cheery  humour  and  common 
sense.  In  Birjand  he  i-ules  his  class,  and  any 
dispute  between  shopkeepers  or  traders  is  referred 
to  him  informally  for  arrangement.  In  serious 
trouble  or  on  points  of  law,  recourse  is  had  to  the 
religious  leaders  or  to  the  civil  government,  with 
both  of  which  powers  his  influence  is  considerable. 
Merchants  in  Persia  generally  have  not  the  spirit 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  49 

of  co-operation  necessary  to  form  effective  guilds, 
but  they  have  always  their  leaders,  and  my  old 
friend  is  a  worthy  representative. 

Next  morning  we  visited  his  workshop,  a 
rectangular  mud-brick  building  with  a  double  line 
of  looms  on  each  side  of  a  central  passage,  lighted 
by  a  doorway  at  each  end  and  by  holes  in  the  roof. 
The  little  fellows  were  seated  on  planks  in  front 
of  the  upright  looms,  and  their  nimble  fingers 
were  busy  with  wool  and  varn  and  scissors  and 
tightening-forks.  On  our  entrance  they  set  up  a 
shout  of  respectful  prayer  for  their  master  which 
was  pleasant  to  hear. 

After  a  look  round  I  rode  off  into  the  hills  and 
followed  an  up-and-down  track  till  I  came  at 
midday  to  Chinisht,  the  site  of  the  magic  cave, 
where  I  dismounted  under  a  big  plane  tree  and 
walked  through  the  tortuous  lanes  of  the  village, 
coming  to  rest  in  a  little  room.  There  I  found 
myself  surrounded  by  a  full  dozen  men  and  boys, 
soft-featured  beings  dressed  in  bright-hued  tunics 
and  with  round  caps  ribbed  and  embroidered 
in  gay  colours  like  the  headgear  of  a  dervish. 
'  Why,'  said  I,  '  you  can't  all  be  dervishes, 
surely  ?  '  Whereat  they  laughed  merrily  and 
said  they  were  so.  They  looked  very  prosperous 
and  cheery,  so  I  asked  the  little  red-bearded 
spokesman  how  a  village  could  support  itself  with 
a  population  of  idle  dervishes  who,  by  their  looks, 
loved  to  sit  i'  the  sun  and  do  no  work.     My  sur- 

D 


50  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

prise  tickled  him  and  the  whole  fraternity  of  jolly 
beggars  immensely,  but  the  question  wasn't 
answered  very  satisfactorily.  I  learned  after- 
wards that  the  women  do  the  field  work.  On  the 
way  back  to  Noufrist  I  was  told  that  one  of  the 
cunning  practices  of  these  holy  men  is  to  display 
the  white  mark  of  the  prophet's  hand  on  their 
brown  sunburnt  shoulders,  which  proof  of  sanctity 
and  divine  favour  brings  grist  to  their  mill.  The 
miracle  is  worked  by  pasting  on  the  shoulder  a 
piece  of  paper  cut  in  the  shape  of  a  hand,  which 
is  removed  when  the  surrounding  skin  has  been 
well  darkened  by  exposure  to  the  sun. 

I  passed  the  evening  at  Noufrist  with  a  young 
friend  who  owns  a  shady  garden  full  of  old  mul- 
berry trees,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  dined  and 
talked  about  land  and  crops.  He  is  a  bright  lad 
with  effeminate  features  and  a  sensuous  lip  and 
eye,  but  he  keeps  himself  manly  by  the  business 
of  looking  after  a  number  of  estates  which  he 
has  inherited.  He  explained  to  me  how  the  local 
people  dealt  in  land,  which  they  reckon  not  by  the 
acre  but  by  the  quantity  of  grain  seed  sown  on  it 
or  by  its  water-rights.  Here,  where  ail  the  water 
used  for  irrigation  flows  through  privately-owned 
courses  and  is  brought  underground  to  its  destina- 
tion, a  piece  of  cultivated  land  is  described  in  a 
deed  of  sale  as  so  many  shares  of  water  in  such  and 
such  a  situation.  The  water  is  not  measured  by 
quantity,  but  apportioned  by  time-allotments,  a 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  51 

share  of  twenty-four  hours'  flow  of  each  course 
being  subdivided  into  allowances  of  one  hour  or 
more.  In  this  way  each  owner  across  whose  land 
the  water  passes  receives  his  regular  time-allow- 
ance of  the  whole  stream,  which  he  directs  over  his 
property  by  little  irrigation  channels.  Quaint 
and  incomprehensible  ?  Quite  so,  and  to  explain 
the  whole  business  I  should  have  to  write  a  long 
account  which  you  would  certainly  fall  asleep  over. 
Meanwhile  you  are  wondering  what  I  saw  in  the 
mysterious  cave  at  Chinisht.  Well,  I  will  confess 
I  have  a  horror  of  prisoned  spaces,  and  wouldn't 
climb  through  a  chimney  or  crawl  through  a 
drain  pipe  even  if  I  knew  Dover  was  at  the  other 
end.  So  after  sliding  down  and  along  a  hole  two 
feet  in  diameter  for  five  yards,  I  scrambled  up 
again,  leaving  the  skeletons  undisturbed.  It  was 
a  shameful  retreat,  but  after  all  there  are  people 
who  can't  look  over  a  precipice.  Alas  for  the 
knights  of  the  Middle  Ages  ! 

BiRJAND,  30th  June  1914. 
Dear  M., — We  have  all  been  to  school,  to  the 
Madreseh  Shoukatieh  (the  Shoukat's  College),  to 
hear  the  boys  examined  on  the  last  day  before 
their  summer  holidays.  You  know  what  the 
ordinary  idea  of  a  school  is  in  the  backwaters  of 
Persia — a  room  where  a  few  urchins  have  the 
three  R's  hammered  into  them  by  a  fusty  old 
pedagogue  full  of  wise  saws  and  pious  cant.    The 


52  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

late  Amii  Shoukat  ul  Mulk,  brother  of  the  present 
governor  of  the  same  title,  bequeathed  part  of  his 
estates  for  educational  purposes,  and  this  trust 
was  applied  by  his  successor  in  founding  and 
maintaining  a  school  worthy  of  his  name.  The 
result  of  six  years'  work  is  something  to  be  proud 
of,  and  the  present  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  gets  all  the 
credit  for  it.  Why  ?  Because,  instead  of  forget- 
ting his  obligations  and  allowing  the  bequest  to 
be  dissipated  as  bequests  so  often  are  in  Persia, 
he  has  actually  applied  the  trust  for  the  good  of 
the  rising  generation. 

Education  was  in  the  air  in  those  revolutionary- 
days.  Effete  old  Persia,  fired  by  the  examples  of 
Japan  and  Turkey,  was  thinking  repentantly  of 
her  sons,  and  borrowing,  for  their  guidance,  the 
light  of  European  science.  So  the  old  town  cita- 
del was  put  to  new  uses,  and  the  boys  of  Birjand 
were  invited  to  come  there  and  be  taught  as  their 
fathers  never  had  been.  Instructors  were  brought 
from  Teheran,  and  pupils  of  all  classes  were 
admitted  free.  Maps  were  put  on  the  walls,  and 
the  boys  learned  for  the  first  time  that  there  was 
a  science  called  geography,  and  that  ancient 
history  was  something  different  from  mythology. 
The  little  fellows  entered  a  new  world  of  fairy  tale, 
and  shocked  their  fathers  and  mothers  with  asser- 
tions about  the  Law  of  Gravity  and  how  the  sun 
and  the  moon  were  made  and  how  ridiculously 
the  earth  behaved,  all  of  which  made  the  dear  old 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  58 

muUas  shake  their  heads.  The  boys  of  the  first 
year  are  now  young  men,  and  in  another  year  they 
will  complete  their  studies  and  go  out  with  an 
elementary  knowledge  of  such  things  as  hygiene 
and  the  French  language. 

For  the  closing  day  we  received  and  accepted 
written  invitations  from  the  headmaster,  and  at 
nine  o'clock  we  went  along  to  the  school,  shook 
hands  with  the  teachers,  sat  down  and  drank  tea. 
The  Governor  arrived  in  his  carriage  and  drank 
tea  likewise,  and  the  boys  were  marshalled  into 
the  big  hall,  at  the  end  of  which  they  stood  facing 
us  till  they  were  ordered  to  sit.  In  the  front  row 
were  children  of  six  or  seven,  with  the  big  boys  of 
eighteen  to  twenty-five  behind,  all  with  their  legs 
tucked  under  them  and  their  knees  on  the  carpet, 
which  is  a  more  respectful  but  less  comfortable 
posture  than  cross-legged  squatting.  The  boys, 
even  the  youngest,  were  dressed  in  a  variety  of 
frock-coats,  long  trousers,  and  the  native  white 
slippers,  and  they  all  bore  the  school  badge  in 
silver  on  their  black  pill-box  hats.  They  num- 
bered about  a  hundred,  and  represented  all  grades 
of  society,  the  deputy-governor's  son  rubbing 
shoulders  with  the  son  of  his  servant  or  of  some 
small  shopkeeper.  The  boys  pay  nothing  for 
their  education,  and  some  of  the  poorest  of  them 
are  even  clothed  and  fed  at  the  school's  expense. 
The  half-dozen  teachers  sat  at  one  side  of  the  hall 
and  called  the  boys  out  before  us  in  turn,  com- 


54  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

mencing  with  the  youngest,  who  were  made  to 
write  a  few  words  on  the  blackboard,  spelling 
aloud  as  they  wrote.  The  second  class  read  from 
a  little  book  of  moral  anecdotes.  Deep  voice  and 
shrill  voice,  pale  face  and  rosy  cheek,  shy  boy  and 
bold  boy  alternated.  The  little  fellows  stumped 
away  and  the  bigger  ones  stalked  forward.  The 
third  class  did  a  few  quick  examples  in  arithmetic 
on  the  blackboard,  and  answered  questions  in 
elementary  geography.  Then  we  had  some  ecclesi- 
astical biography,  which  was  followed  by  answers 
on  questions  of  style  in  verse-writing,  illustrated 
by  copious  quotations  from  the  poetry  of  Sadi. 
These  points  of  style  related  to  metaphor  and 
allusion  and  verbal  conceits,  and  not  at  all  to 
verse-forms  or  measure.  Reading  in  Arabic 
followed,  and  then  examination  in  history.  As 
we  were  invited  to  ask  questions,  I  asked  the 
master  if  any  one  could  tell  us  what  was  the  use  of 
studying  history.  A  tall  boy  with  a  large  head 
promptly  returned  the  shock  by  replying  that 
history  made  us  acquainted  with  our  ancestors, 
and  enabled  us  to  benefit  in  the  present  from  the 
experience  of  the  past,  besides  giving  us  models 
of  conduct  and  action.  A  race  that  knew  not  its 
history,  he  said,  was  like  a  child  that  knew  not  its 
father.  I  was  further  surprised  when  another  boy 
with  a  solemn  face  and  a  twinkling  eye  replied 
correctly  to  my  direct  question  in  elementary 
geology,  that  the  Birjand  valley  was  formed  by 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  55 

alluvial  deposit,  and  that  the  surrounding  hills 
were  composed  mainly  of  limestone. 

The  senior  French  class  came  last,  and  was  put 
through  its  paces  by  the  revenue  collector. 
Persians  are  good  linguists,  but  this  particular 
batch  was  not  a  very  bright  one,  though  they 
probably  read  as  well  as  the  average  boy  in  the 
average  English  school.  Three  of  these  young 
men  were  friends  of  mine,  who  come  to  my  house 
twice  a  week  for  instruction  in  English.  Tliey 
are  the  cleverest  boys  in  the  school,  and  I  find 
their  society  very  refreshing.  If  they  haven't 
learned  much  of  our  difficult  language,  they  have 
certainly  helped  me  a  lot  with  their  own  tongue 
and  with  Arabic.  We  talk  together,  like  the 
Walrus  and  the  Carpenter,  of  things  in  general, 
including  politics,  and  their  unsophisticated  re- 
flections are  always  diverting  and  often  illumi- 
nating. Native  politeness  and  respect  prevent 
them  from  being  over-critical  of  our  aims  and  our 
methods,  but  the  face  of  the  youngest  usually 
tells  me  what  they  really  think  about  such  ques- 
tions. They  were  frankly  annoyed  with  me  some 
time  ago,  as  being  a  subject  of  King  George,  for 
a  remark  of  the  Foreign  Secretary  which  they 
had  seen  reported  in  a  Teheran  newspaper.  Sir 
Edward  Grey,  it  appeared,  had  stated  in  Parlia- 
ment that  in  his  opinion  the  whole  of  Persia  was 
not  worth  the  blood  of  one  British  soldier.  Was 
this,  they  asked,  the  utterance  of  a  responsible 


56  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Minister  of  State  ?  Was  this  expression  of  in- 
sufferable arrogance  and  contempt  the  fruit  of 
England's  greatness  ?  I  suggested  that  Sir 
Edward  Grey  had  been  mistranslated,  or  that 
his  words  merely  meant  that  a  policy  of  pure 
aggression  anywhere  was  not  worth  a  single  life's- 
blood.  But  their  pride  (the  fiery  pride  of  youth) 
was  badly  hurt,  and  they  boiled  with  indignation. 
Certainly  one  likes  to  think  that  one's  country 
is  worth  invading. 

BiRJAND,  10th  August  1914. 

Dear  M., — I  hope  you  are  sorry  for  me.  I  have 
never  wanted  to  see  a  daily  paper  so  much  in  my 
life,  and  the  London  papers  take  eighteen  days  or 
more  to  reach  here.  What  is  happening — what 
are  people  saying — what  is  the  country  doing — 
how  did  it  all  come  about  ? 

We  shall  learn  in  time,  I  suppose.  I  got  a 
telegram  on  the  2nd  which  rather  puzzled  me,  so  I 
wired  back  for  an  explanation.  The  reply  came 
on  the  3rd.  '  Situation  in  Europe  very  grave.' 
'  H'm  !  what  a  nuisance.  Those  naughty  boys 
in  the  Balkans  again,  I  suppose,  throwing  stones 
at  each  other.'  Thinking  these  great  thoughts, 
I  walked  across  to  see  X.  '  Hullo  !  any  news 
from  Seistan  ?  I  've  just  had  a  wire  from  Meshed 
saying  that  the  situation  in  Europe  is  grave.' 
'  Have  you  ?  '  said  X. ;  'I  haven't  heard  any- 
thing. Stop  and  have  tea.'  So  I  stopped  and 
had  tea,  and  some  tennis  afterwards,  and  he  beat 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  57 

me  6—1,  6—2,  and  so  on,  as  he  always  does. 
Next  morning  I  had  a  note  from  him.  '  You 
were  right  yesterday.  Read  this.'  And  then 
followed  little  bits  of  news  that  he  had  received  on 
the  wire.  Next  morning  came  other  little  bits  of 
news,  and  thereafter  Renter  danced  a  fiery  squib- 
dance  daily.  Russia  in — France  in — Belgium  in — 
England  in — we  began  to  see  red.  The  little  old 
Russian  telegraphist,  who  drinks  cocoa  and  buys 
fox-skins  and  feeds  his  great  watch-dogs  on  dead 
donkeys,  walked  in  on  us  with  a  quizzical  smile. 
'  Have  you  any  news  ?  '  he  asked  in  his  broken 
Persian,  which  is^the  only  language  we  have  in 
common.  He  always  gets  his  news  belated. 
'None  whatever,'  said  X.,  looking  unconcerned. 
The  old  man  smiled,  and  looked  hard  and  long  at 
us.  '  When  I  put  my  ear  to  the  ground,'  said  he, 
'  I  can  hear  the  sound  of  Austrian  guns.'  Then 
slowly,  deliberately,  a  trifle  anxiously,  he  put  the 
question  that  had  been  troubling  his  mind.    '  Are 

you — with  us — or against  us  ?  '     Whereon  we 

both  shook  his  hand  violently,  and  the  alliance 
was  confirmed. 

The  natives  have  had  the  news  from  us,  and 
they  begin  to  see  trouble  ahead.  Some  of  them 
can't  understand  that  the  British  Empire  should 
be  actually  at  war.  That  great  and  strong  power 
— what  need  can  it  have  to  fight,  and  who  is  this 
unheard-of  enemy  that  must  feel  the  weight  of  its 
blow  ?     Most  of  them  know  nothing  of  Germany 


58  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

but  the  name,  which  they  use  in  describing  syn- 
thetic indigo,  known  as  nil  i  almani.  They  ask 
me  why  the  Inglees  are  fighting,  and  I  tell  them 
that  the  Beast  of  Europe  has  lowered  his  horns, 
and  that  we  and  our  friends  are  out  to  chain  him 
up.  They  ask  me  how  long  it  will  last,  and  I  tell 
them  three  months,  or  perhaps  six.  They  don't 
like  that,  because  their  export  trade  has  been 
stopped,  and  they  say  that  if  it  lasts  six  months 
the  carpet-makers  will  all  be  bankrupt.  Well, 
judging  by  the  articles  I  used  to  read  in  the  heavy 
Reviews  it  will  be  a  short  affair — a  succession  of 
deadly  blows  and  rapid  rushes,  chaos  generally, 
and  then  a  financial  smash-up  somewhere  that 
will  lead  to  peace.  The  odds  are  with  us,  which 
seems  rather  lucky.  The  heavy  Reviews  always 
discussed  single  combat.  They  used  to  point  across 
to  Kiel  and  invite  us  to  fear  the  foe  in  shining 
armour  and  to  get  ready  for  biffing  him.  We  didn't 
appear  to  bother  about  it,  but  perhaps  the  men  at 
the  wheel  weren't  asleep  really.  There  are  three 
of  us  together  now,  and  although  it 's  a  strange 
alliance  in  one  respect,  I  suppose  it  settles  the 
upshot.  So  when  a  Persian  asks  if  we  are  sure  to 
win,  I  reply  that  the  fate  of  countries  at  war  is 
with  God,  but  that  I  shall  be  considerably  sur- 
prised if  by  any  chance  we  should  happen  to  lose. 
I  dare  guess  that  you  have  taken  to  reading 
newspapers,  and  that  you  have  had  a  continuous 
revel  of  excited  discussion  with  all  sorts  of  people 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  59 

during  the  last  ten  days.  I  have  had  about  two 
columns  of  news  altogether  since  the  end  of  July, 
and  I  pant  for  the  Weeklies  to  talk  it  over  with. 
You  can't  '  discuss '  things  with  Reuter  as  you  can 
with  a  leading  article. 

Above  and  before  all  I  shall  look  for  a  long 
letter  from  you. 

BiRjAND,  lUh  November  1914. 

Dear  M., — Mv  three  months'  allowance  for  the 
war  has  expired,  and  apparently  the  fighting 
hasn't  yet  started  properly.  Meanwhile  I  am 
getting  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  geography,  as 
I  refer  to  a  big  atlas  almost  daily — Eastern 
Belgium,  Lorraine,  Northern  France,  Eastern 
Prussia,  Galicia,  and  now  we  're  off  to  Turkey  and 
the  Black  Sea. 

Persia  is  very  excited  about  Turkey,  and  doesn't 
know  how  to  behave  herself.  She  and  the  Turk 
follow  the  same  prophet,  though  they  curse  each 
other's  sects  at  times  just  as  Protestant  and 
Roman  Catholic  used  to  do.  Persia's  politicians 
are  rather  like  spoilt  children  whom  people 
meddle  with  too  much,  and  they  simply  can't  sit 
still.  They  must  be  spilling  their  tea,  or  smash- 
ing auntie's  china,  or  begging  for  more  cake. 
Just  now  they  are  all  agog  with  ideas.  They  see 
that  Britain  and  Russia  are  rather  preoccupied 
with  European  affairs,  and  they  discuss  with  each 
other  the  advantages  to  be  drawn  from  this  new 
situation.     '  Our  northern  neighbour,'  they  say, 


60  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

*  has  his  hands  very  full,  and  will  not  be  for  some 
time  quite  so  aggressive  as  he  has  been.  We  shall 
see  what  we  shall  see.  Perhaps  we  can  induce 
him  to  clear  out  of  our  province  of  Azerbaijan, 
or  perhaps  the  Turks  may  come  in  and  drive  him 
out  for  us.  At  any  rate,  there  is  money  to  be  made 
somehow,  so  we  must  be  friends  with  everybody 
in  the  meantime,  and  play  our  cards  cleverly.' 

The  Governor  has  gone  off  to  Seistan  with  his 
troops — infantry,  cavalry,  artillery,  and  camel 
corps,  about  four  hundred  in  all.  They  are  a 
mixed  lot,  but  they  happen  to  have  two  or  three 
good  officers.  The  colonel  in  command  of  the 
cavalry  is  a  young  man  of  about  thirty-two,  alert 
and  athletic  and  a  hard  worker,  full  of  energy 
and  enthusiasm.  He  has  been  learning  to  play 
tennis  all  summer,  dashing  about  the  court  like  a 
young  antelope.  The  Amir  has  gone  south  to  put 
the  Baluch  tribes  in  order,  and  he  and  his  army 
won't  be  back  till  the  spring.  We  shall  miss 
them  very  much  this  winter. 

We  have  made  the  painful  discovery  that  the 
news  we  get  isn't  quite  reliable.  The  official 
reports  tell  half-truths,  and  some  of  the  news- 
paper correspondents  report  with  a  flourish  any 
old  yarn  they  get  hold  of,  and  the  censors 
apparently  help  to  mystify  matters,  so  that  we 
have  to  read  between  the  lines.  The  papers  are 
interesting,  and  we  devour  them  eagerly.  The 
mails  come  through  very  slowly.     I  have  just  had 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  61 

a  letter  that  I  wrote  home  last  July  returned  to 
me  from  Russia,  for  no  apparent  reason. 

BiRJAND,  lOf^  February  1915. 

Dear  M., — Your  letter  of  18th  November  turned 
up  yesterday,  and  with  the  same  mail  came  one 
from  P.  R.,  dated  1st  January,  and  giving  me  the 
joyful  news  that  he  was  in  khaki.  I  have  written 
him  a  long  letter  which  will  bore  him  terribly  no 
doubt,  and  I  am  wondering  where  and  when  it 
will  find  him — the  state  of  the  mails  is  so  exas- 
perating. If  P.  R.  comes  through  this  all  right  he 
will  congratulate  himself  for  the  rest  of  his  life  on 
having  done  the  right  thing.  It  seems  to  me  that 
in  this  very  uncertain  world  there  is  absolutely 
nothing  so  clear  as  a  man's  duty  in  this  one 
respect.  The  thing  is  sublimely  simple,  too,  for 
a  young  bachelor  with  no  responsibilities.  He 
takes  one  step— or  he  doesn't.  If  he  doesn't  he 's 
either  a  fraud  or  a  failure,  and  if  his  body  is 
healthy  he  must  have  a  diseased  mind.  It  is  the 
unfailing  test  of  sanity  and  virtue. 

I  know  you  agree  with  me.  I  have  always 
known  it,  but  have  you  not  just  told  me  that  you 
are  flitting  about  in  a  Red  Cross  uniform  ?  Those 
ambulance  classes,  and  those  ingenious  bandages 
that  you  used  to  manipulate  for  my  instruction — 
I  little  thought,  two  years  ago,  that  they  would 
serve  so  fine  a  purpose,  or  that  you  would  ever 
see  real  blood  flow  from  a  soldier's  wounds.     I 


62  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

suppose  that  you  were  '  secretly  preparing  '  all 
the  time,  and  that  it 's  only  another  proof  that 
the  diabolical  British  were  planning  this  war  for 
years  past.  Well,  I  shall  kiss  the  dust  of  your 
feet  for  ever. 

Between  us  three,  I  am  tired  of  ranters.  I 
should  like  to  see  some  enemy  newspapers  for  a 
change.  It  would  be  nicer  to  smile  at  the  pug- 
nacious cant  of  G.  politicians  than  it  is  to  read  the 
heroics  of  our  own  tub-thumpers.  I  wonder  how 
many  platform  speakers,  in  all  the  belligerent 
countries,  have  sworn  that  they  will  fight  to  the 
last  man,  the  last  drop  of  blood,  and  the  last 
shilling,  franc,  rouble,  mark,  or  krone,  as  the  case 
may  be  ?  But  I  suppose  things  like  that  have  to 
be  said  to  warm  the  blood  of  the  proletariat. 

BiRjAND,  22nd  May  1915. 

Dear  M., — The  Governor  has  returned.  His 
adventures  with  his  gallant  army  among  the 
Baluch  tribesmen  of  the  south  make  rather  a  lame 
story,  so  we  won't  talk  about  them.  He  looks  a 
little  haggard  and  tired,  and  his  health  appears  to 
have  suffered  from  the  climate  down  below.  The 
members  of  his  entourage  who  went  with  him  into 
camp  at  Kuh  Malek  Siah  (Black  Chief  Mountain) 
discovered  while  they  were  there  what  a  fine  place 
Birjand  is.  They  hadn't  realised  that  before,  so 
the  expedition  has  had  some  good  results.  For 
the  rest,  there  was  a  very  little  blood-letting,  and 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  63 

a  good  deal  of  palaver,  and  no  harm  was  done  for 
the  time  being. 

India,  from  all  I  hear,  is  behaving  very  well, 
Turkey  and  all  notwithstanding.  Which  reminds 
me  that  the  other  day  my  Persian  factotum 
entered  my  room  with  a  very  iniriguS  air,  on  top 
of  which  was  an  apologetic  smile.  We  had  a 
sitting  behind  closed  doors  for  five  minutes,  and 
he  told  me  that  the  chief  priest  had  received  a 
document  signed  by  the  religious  leaders  at  Najaf, 
and  directing  the  people  of  Persia  to  make  holy 
war  on  the  English  and  the  Russians.  The  chief 
priest  had  shown  the  document  to  the  Amir,  who 
had  advised  him  to  suppress  it  for  the  present. 
'  Well,'  said  I,  '  I  suppose  this  has  been  sent  to  all 
towns  in  the  country,  and  it  is  bound  to  get  spread 
about.  There  may  be  some  preaching  in  the 
mosques  on  the  subject,  and  the  common  people 
may  get  excited.  They  may  collect  in  crowds 
and  work  themselves  into  a  fanatical  fury.  Some 
of  them,  the  more  ignorant,  will  then  think  it  a 
pious  deed  to — er — to  hasten  our  departure  to  the 
lower  world.  Is  that  correct  ?  '  '  Yes,  sahib,  it 
is  possible.'  '  That,'  said  I,  '  would  be  rather  an 
amusing  turn  of  affairs.'  '  But  it  will  not  happen,' 
said  he,  '  because  to  set  up  a  jehad  it  is  necessary 
that  the  Government  should  order  it,  and  the  in- 
visible Imam  should  reappear  to  sanction  and 
direct  it.*  '  In  that  case,'  said  I,  '  we  need  not 
heed   this   document.     The   Turks   are   fighting 


64  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

against  brother  Mohammedans  of  India,  and  their 
aUies  in  this  war  are  Christian  people.  Therefore 
the  Government  will  not  order  a  jehad,  and  the 
holy  Imam  will  not  reappear  to  sanction  it.  The 
muUas  of  Najaf  have  been  misled,  or  their  seals 
have  been  forged.  It  is  interesting  news,  but  we 
will  think  no  more  about  it.' 

There  is  a  Persian  newspaper  printed  in  Cal- 
cutta which  comes  to  me  every  week,  and  it  has 
always  some  interesting  and  fairly  impartial 
comments  on  the  war.  The  chief  news  article 
used  to  be  headed  '  The  War  of  the  Seven  Armies,' 
and  grew  to  the  '  War  of  the  Nine  Armies.'  I 
really  believe  the  old  editor  is  eagerly  looking 
forward  to  the  entry  of  a  few  more  belligerents 
in  order  to  make  his  headline  still  more  impressive. 
Nevertheless,  he  keeps  on  urging  Persia  to  safe- 
guard her  neutrality  and  to  fish  these  troubled 
waters  for  what  she  can  catch  without  wetting 
her  own  feet — Machiavellian  advice,  which  I 
suppose  expresses  the  policy  of  the  neutral 
Balkan  states  as  well  at  present. 

BiEJAND.  30th  June  1915. 

Dear  M., — Many  thanks  for  the  copies  of  Land 
and  Water  you  have  been  sending.  They  were 
very  illuminating  at  first,  but  I  'm  afraid  we  're  all 
getting  sophisticated  and  sceptical.  The  pro- 
phets have  made  such  bad  guesses  all  round  that 
we  can't  believe  them  any  more.     We  used  to 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  65 

have  a  high  and  cheerful  faith  in  their  logic,  but 
now  we  only  look  for  results  and  don't  care  a  bit 
for  prognostications  of  crushing  disasters  here 
and  sweeping  victories  there.  The  front-page 
articles  of  the  T.L.S.  seem  to  me  disappointing. 
Is  half  the  intellect  and  learning  of  England 
talking  like  that  just  now,  and  does  the  other  half 
really  listen  to  it  ?  I  suppose,  while  the  men  of 
action  are  busy  with  fate,  the  parsons  of  the  Press 
must  rightly  be  busy  with  sermons.  But  is  it 
with  such  ethical  meanderings  and  ruminations 
that  they  should  '  be  copy  now  to  men  of  grosser 
blood,  and  teach  them  how  to  war '  ? 

The  Teheran  newspapers  are  getting  rather 
partial  to  the  enemy,  and  just  a  trifle  bellicose. 
The  retreat  of  Russia  in  Europe  has  given  them 
boldness,  and  no  doubt  the  numerous  German, 
Austrian,  and  Turkish  emissaries  and  agents  in 
the  capital  have  bought  as  many  friends  as  they 
can.  So  the  editors  read  the  reports  of  both  sides, 
and  study  the  maps  of  Belgium  and  Northern 
France  and  Poland,  and  compare  achievements  to 
date,  and  nod  their  wise  heads  and  set  their  pens 
scraping  in  praise  of  the  Kaiser  and  the  Turk,  and 
in  pity  for  Russia  who  (they  say)  wants  peace, 
and  in  scorn  for  England  who  won't  let  her  make 
it  but  lends  her  money  at  interest  instead.  And 
the  daring  spirits  dream  of  an  Islamic  alliance  of 
Turkey  and  Persia  and  Afghanistan  and  Moham- 
medan India,  with  the  Kaiser  as  fairy  godfather. 

E 


66  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

But  Persia  at  large  distrusts  the  Turk  and  fears 
the  savage  Afghan,  and  the  sober-minded  men  who 
keep  things  going  reahse  that  Russia  is  still  a 
mighty  power  and  perilously  near  at  hand,  while 
the  fairy  godfather  lives  a  long  way  off.  They 
also  realise  that  Egypt  is  secure  so  far,  while 
Constantinople  may  not  be.  They  know  that 
India  is  with  us  and  is  advancing  up  the  Tigris 
towards  Baghdad.  So  they  say,  '  Let  us  bear 
with  the  tutelage  that  we  have  suffered  for  a 
hundred  years.  We  and  our  fathers  have  watched 
the  rivalry  and  jealousy  between  Britain  and 
Russia  in  Persia  for  a  full  century,  and  we  have 
even  taken  advantage  of  it  on  many  occasions  by 
knocking  their  heads  together.  We  have  never 
been  afraid  of  Britain,  because  Britain  has  always 
wanted  us  to  be  a  buffer  state  and  retain  our 
independence  like  Afghanistan.  Now  that  these 
two  powerful  rivals  have  made  friendship,  it  is 
very  unfortunate  for  us,  and  we  must  be  careful. 
Let  us  wait  a  little  longer,  and  in  the  meantime  let 
us  try  to  borrow  some  more  money  from  them, 
for  our  trade  is  badly  damaged,  and  our  revenues 
have  declined,  and  our  forces  are  disunited  as 
they  always  have  been,  and  our  army  is  but  a 
poor  thing  at  best  and  could  not  stand  up  for  a 
moment  against  such  terrible  warfare  as  is  going 
on  in  Europe.'  And  a  sage  old  muUa  mutters  an 
Arabic  quotation  in  his  beard  and  winds  up  the 
argument  in  a  deep  voice  full  of  authority  and 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  67 

conviction.  '  Let  the  Christians  eat  each  other,' 
he  says ;  '  the  Turk  was  a  fool.' 

The  Germans  have  taken  a  sudden  interest  in 
the  trade  of  several  towns  of  Persia,  and  have  sent 
representatives  to  Kermanshah  and  Hamadan 
and  Isfahan.  In  the  last-named  town,  which  is 
right  in  the  centre  of  Persia,  they  appear  to  be 
taking  a  particularly  lively  interest.  Can  it  be 
that  they  are  already  preparing  to  monopolise 
Persia's  foreign  trade  after  they  will  have  de- 
feated us  satisfactorily  ?  It  is  even  reported 
that  they  are  engaging  a  greater  number  of 
servants  than  they  require,  and  that  one  or  two 
of  them  are  travelling  eastwards. 

The  Amir  is  himself  again,  or  nearly  so,  though 
his  tennis  isn't  quite  so  good  as  it  used  to  be. 

BiRJAND,  29th  July  1915. 
Dear  M.,— The  plot  thickens.  The  conspirators 
are  coming  on.  The  mischief-makers  of  Europe 
are  popping  up  in  Persia,  of  all  places.  The 
telegraph  instruments  in  Birjand — think  of  it ! — 
are  ticking  all  day,  and  maps  are  being  studied  as 
they  never  were  before.  I  told  you  last  month  that 
there  were  Germans  in  the  west  of  Persia  and  in 
Isfahan.  After  that  we  heard  of  Germans  in 
Yezd,  and  in  Kerman,  and  in  Tun,  and  in  Tabas, 
and  so  gradually  nearer  till  before  we  knew  where 
we  were  a  couple  of  them  arrived  in  Kain  with  a 
band  of  Persian  mercenaries,  and  demanded  hos- 


68  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

pitality  from  the  wondering  to^vnspeople.  Now 
the  town  of  Kain  is  seventy  miles  north  of  Birjand, 
which  is  three  days'  journey,  so  the  question  is 
where  they  are  going  next.  The  Amir  has  tele- 
graphed asking  them  their  business,  and  they  say 
they  are  peaceful  travellers.  Very  good,  very 
good  indeed  !  But  it  is  whispered  that  they  have 
a  lot  of  mules  loaded  with  rifles  and  ammunition 
and  mysterious  boxes.  It  is  pointed  out  to  the 
Amir  that  they  are  the  enemies  of  Britain,  and 
that  they  should  not  be  allowed  to  travel  about 
neutral  territory  with  such  merchandise.  The 
Amir  says  if  they  come  to  Birjand  he  will  see  about 
it.  The  reply  is  that  if  they  are  allowed  to  come 
and  establish  themselves  here,  they  may  make  it 
unpleasant  for  him,  and  they  will  certainly  make 
it  unpleasant  for  us.  So  the  Amir  asks  what  he 
can  do.  '  Arrest  them,'  is  the  reply.  '  Send 
them  home  again  if  you  like.'  '  Peaceful  travel- 
lers ?  '  says  the  governor  of  Kain  and  Seistan. 
'  Peaceful  fiddlesticks,'  say  we.  The  Amir  looks 
grave,  and  says  he  can't  interfere  with  them 
without  orders  from  the  capital,  as  it  would  be  a 
breach  of  neutrality.  '  But  they  are  an  armed 
party  of  belligerents,  and  they  have  violated  your 
neutrality ! '  The  x^mir  suggests  that  it  is  a  long, 
long  way  from  Turkey  to  Birjand,  and  that  we 
have  told  him  that  the  G.'s  have  come  right 
across  Persia,  and  that  there  are  more  G.'s  in  the 
big  towns  between  here  and  the  west.  '  Why 
didn't  you  have  them  stopped  before  ?  '     '  Ask 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  69 

us  another,'  say  we.  '  Well,  if  my  government 
hasn't  interfered  before,'  he  asks,  '  how  can  I 
interfere  now  without  orders  ?  '  '  Then  please 
get  the  orders,'  we  reply,  '  and,  meanwhile,  before 
it  is  too  late,  we  will  do  it  ourselves,  if  you  don't 
mind.'  '  Very  good,'  says  the  Amir,  '  I  have  no 
objection.'     So  there  the  matter  stands. 

We  are  in  the  middle  of  Ramazan,  when  the 
people  fast  from  before  sunrise  till  after  sunset. 
How  would  you  like  to  pass  the  long  hot  summer 
days  without  even  a  drink  of  water  ?  And  how 
would  you  like  to  be  my  cook,  who  prepares 
master's  meals  and  goes  hungry  himself  ?  I 
wonder  if  he  really  does.  The  opium-smokers 
have  to  break  the  fast,  as  they  are  the  slaves  of 
the  pipe.  The  opium-smokers  of  Birjand  make 
at  least  one- third  of  the  population,  male  and 
female.  Of  the  rest,  many  in  ill-health  are  excused 
by  the  doctors  from  fasting,  and  many  eat  and 
drink  in  secret.  The  others  have  a  meal  after 
sunset  and  another  before   dawn,   and  so  turn 

night  into  day. 

Birjand,  14/^  August  1915. 

Dear  M., — After  a  year  of  war  it  looks  as  if  we 
may  have  some  excitement  even  in  Birjand. 
The  great  game  of  Puss-in-the-Corner  has  com- 
menced. The  first  move  was  by  the  peaceful 
travellers  who  came  along  to  Kain  and  squatted 
on  people's  floors  and  drank  their  tea,  and  smiled 
when  they  were  asked  their  business.  The  second 
move  was  made  by  a  company  of  Cossacks  in  khaki 


70  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

and  forage  caps,  and  mounted  on  tough  little 
Russian  horses,  and  with  rifles  and  bayonets  and  a 
plentiful  supply  of  cartridges  slung  about  them. 

These  cavaliers  had  come  from  Russia  to  Meshed, 
and  from  Meshed  to  Turbat  and  down  to  Gunabad ; 
and  hearing  of  strangers  in  the  vicinity  they  had 
shown  a  laudable  eagerness  to  meet  them.  So 
they  rode  along  to  Kain  at  two  o'clock  one  morn- 
ing and  were  received  with  a  voUej'^  from  the 
peaceful  travellers,  who  had  posted  a  night  guard 
on  the  main  gate  of  the  town.  As  you  can't 
storm  the  gate  of  a  Persian  town  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  with  a  company  of  tired  men  when  the 
walls  are  guarded,  the  Cossacks  eventually  retired 
to  a  safe  distance  and  established  themselves  in  a 
village  a  few  miles  eastward  over  the  plain,  where 
they  remained.  The  peaceful  travellers,  being 
in  no  mind  for  another  exchange  of  greetings, 
left  Kain  in  a  hurry  that  day  and  went  back  the 
way  they  had  come,  leaving  the  greater  part  of 
their  '  merchandise  '  behind  them.  Next  morn- 
ing our  Russian  friends  walked  in  and  found  that 
the  bird  had  flown.  So  they  collected  the  rifles 
and  ammunition  and  mysterious  boxes,  and  after 
a  day  or  two  sent  them  off  to  Meshed,  and  they 
themselves  left  Kain  and  went  off  to  catch  Puss, 
and  we  haven't  heard  anything  more  of  them. 
In  Birjand  we  have  now  about  fifty  Cossacks,  who 
arrived  on  the  31st  July. 

The  Amir  has  sent  up  a  new  deputy-governor  to 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  71 

Kain,  and  as  X.  was  going  up  on  a  flying  visit, 
and  I  wanted  a  change  of  air,  we  all  went  to- 
gether. We  left  on  the  4th  and  got  back  here 
two  days  ago.  In  Kain  I  made  two  new  acquaint- 
ances, both  of  whom  were  Seyyids,  descendants 
of  the  prophet.  The  first  was  a  burly  merchant 
with  a  bushy  beard,  a  gruff  voice,  and  a  bluff 
manner.  His  way  of  offering  us  cigarettes  when 
we  returned  his  call  was  rather  unconventional. 
As  there  were  five  visitors  he  took  five  long  cigar- 
ettes from  a  glass  dish  on  his  table,  and  putting 
them  one  by  one  in  his  mouth,  set  them  alight 
and  gave  them  all  a  good  start  in  life.  He  then 
handed  them  round,  and  we  smoked  them  duti- 
fully. In  Birjand  I  sometimes  visit  a  cheery  old 
man  whose  servant  invariably  does  the  same  for 
me.  It  is  the  Kalyan  method.  The  native  water- 
pipe  is  prepared  by  a  servant,  who  draws  at  it 
vigorously  to  set  it  going  before  he  brings  it  in. 
The  same  mouthpiece  is  used  by  him  and  by  all 
the  guests  in  turn. 

My  other  new  acquaintance  was  the  chief  priest 
of  Kain,  an  old  man  robed  in  black,  with  rolling 
orbs,  a  huge  dark-blue  turban,  and  a  pulpit 
voice.  We  met  him  unexpectedly  at  the  deputy- 
governor's  house,  where  he  was  found  sitting  in 
wait  for  us,  with  a  large  following  of  blue-turbaned 
Seyyids  squatted  in  the  compound  facing  the 
little  casemented  room.  The  old  mulla  had  a 
great  deal  to  say,  and  had  evidently  prepared  his 


72  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

oration.     He  spoke  for  about  ten  minutes,   his 
voice  booming  and  resounding   in  the  ears  of  the 
attentive  crowd  below.     He  sat  with  his  slender 
hand  on  a  thin  walking-stick,  the  handle  of  which 
was  a  life-like  figure  of  a  saucy  little  cock  in 
enamel  and  turquoise — so  life-like  that  it  looked 
as   if  it  might  crow  its   applause   at  the   most 
dramatic  moments.     The  old  man  sat  erect,  with 
his  body  motionless.     His  head  rose  and  fell,  and 
anon  turned  slowly  to  right  and  left  like  a  camel's, 
while  the  whites  of  his  eyes  gleamed  awesomely. 
When  his  address  of  welcome  and  appeal  was  over 
and  had  been  suitably  replied  to,  his  voice  sub- 
sided, his  face  assumed  a  smile,  and  his  manner 
became  social.     When  we  left  the  house  he  rose 
and  raised  his  hand  to  each  of  us  as  if  in  blessing. 
I  am  told  that  this  old  man  rules  the  morals  of  the 
little  town  with  a  firm  hand.     When  the  tale  of 
some  particularly  pungent  peccadillo  sets  his  ears 
tingling,  he  is  wont  to  rise  in  wrath,  and  with  a 
voice  of  thunder  command  his  servant  to  fetch  the 
great  sword  of  his  grandfather  that  he  may  sally 
forth  and  deal  justice  on  the  miscreant.     I  sup- 
pose he  really  keeps  a  sword  in  his  house,  though 
what  he  could  or  would  do  with  it  I  can't  imagine. 
On  the  way  back  to  Birjand  we  stopped  at 
Sihdeh,  a  prosperous  big  village  in  a  compara- 
tively fertile  plain.     This  village  is  the  district 
headquarters  of  the  Ismaili  sect,  the  followers  of 
His  Highness  the  Agha  Khan  of  India.     Their 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  73 

former  local  chief  was  our  host,  and  we  made  the 
acquaintance  of  his  son-in-law,  the  present  head 
of  the  sect  in  the  Kain  district.  The  son-in-law 
is  a  man  of  thirty-five  or  thereabouts,  and  has  the 
reputation  of  being  a  freethinker.  His  chief 
occupations  appear  to  be  the  making  of  wine  and 
the  writing  of  verse.  The  wine  he  mostly  drinks 
himself,  and  the  poems  he  recites  to  any  convivial 
guests  who  may  happen  along  and  who  may  be 
willing  to  sit  up  till  midnight  listening  to  them. 
When  we  called  on  him  he  produced  a  bottle  of 
extra  special  vintage,  broke  the  seal  of  flour  paste, 
removed  the  paper  stopper,  and  announced,  with 
a  sparkling  eye,  that  this  was  very  old  wine— no 
less  than  two  years  old. 

After  Sihdeh  we  spent  a  night  at  Saqi,  a  poor 
little  village  in  the  hills  eighteen  miles  north  of 
Birjand.  Here,  too,  there  was  a  poet,  and  we  put 
up  in  his  humble  dwelling.  He  is  a  tallish  old 
peasant  with  a  bent  back  and  red-dyed  beard,  and 
we  first  saw  him  in  the  late  afternoon  squatted  in 
his  compound  with  three  village  cronies,  gathered 
round  a  copy  of  the  Koran  which  he  was  reading 
aloud.  The  old  man  stumbled  painfully  through 
the  Arabic,  returning  to  correct  his  mistakes  as 
he  read.  He  was  pulled  up  repeatedly  for  errors 
of  diction  by  one  of  the  cronies  who  appeared 
to  have  a  better  memory  of  the  classic  tongue. 
Arabic  is  to  a  Persian  who  doesn't  understand  it 
a  much  more  vital  thing  than  Latin  is  to  a  devout 


74  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

and  unlearned  Roman  Catholic.  The  education 
of  the  common  people  in  Persia  is  still  to  a  great 
extent  taken  up  with  learning  to  read  the  Islamic 
scripture  in  an  unknown  language.  You  will 
appreciate  the  advantage  of  this  drilled  ignorance 
to  the  cult  of  the  priesthood. 

Later  in  the  day  the  old  fellow  came  into  our 
room  to  fetch  a  book,  and  I  tackled  him  on  the 
subject  of  his  poems.  He  shook  his  head  very 
slowly,  and  said  that  he  wrote  nothing  nowadays. 
'  The  market  is  not  what  it  used  to  be.  In  the 
old  days  the  governors  and  great  people  would 
reward  me  well  for  an  ode.  Now  .  .  .'  The 
times  and  manners  have  changed,  and  a  poet's 
adulation  is  no  longer  acknowledged  by  filling  his 
mouth  with  gold.  In  his  turn  he  asked  me  some 
questions.  '  What  has  been  happening  in  Kain 
town  ?  What  is  all  this  about  Alvan  ?  Who  are 
these  people,  and  what  do  they  want  ?  It  is  said 
that  they  are  peaceful  travellers,  who  pay  well  and 
don't  vex  any  one.  Why  have  the  Russians 
fought  with  them  ?  Wliat  is  Alvan  ?  Is  it  a 
powerful  country  ?  '  Alvan  is  the  peasant's 
version  of  Alman,  which  is  the  Persian  for  Alle- 
magne,  which  is  the  French  for — well,  it 's  the 
French  for  a  lot  of  things  nowadays. 

BiRJAND,  I9th  September  1915. 

Dear  M., — I  have  been  away  on  a  three  weeks' 
dash  to  Seistan  and  back.     Seistan  is  250  miles 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  75 

south-east  of  Birjand,  and  is  one  of  the  innumer- 
able spots  known  to  a  certain  kind  of  Britisher  as 
'  The  last  place  that  God  made.'  I  should  prob- 
ably never  have  visited  it  but  for  the  fact  that  I 
found  my  sight  rather  damaged  when  I  returned 
from  Kain,  and  had  to  go  all  that  distance  to  get 
it  examined.  The  result  was  fairly  satisfactory, 
so  I  shan't  have  to  wear  a  placard  and  carry  a  tin 
box  just  yet.  On  the  journey  I  travelled  by 
night  and  passed  the  days  in  dark  rooms  with 
closed  doors,  but  as  the  road  is  uninteresting  I 
didn't  miss  much. 

On  the  way  down  I  met  some  of  our  Indian 
troops  coming  up  to  Birjand  in  search  of  adven- 
ture, and  in  Seistan  I  found  a  good  many  more. 
The  officers  are  very  keen  on  the  new  Puss-in-the- 
Corner  game,  though  I  think  they  would  rather 
have  gone  to  Flanders.  Their  Seistan  mess  is  in 
the  consulate  bungalow,  and  every  evening  they 
cross  over  to  the  bank  court  for  tennis.  The 
Sandhurst  type  is  varied  by  the  addition  of  one  or 
two  Indian  Army  Reserve  men,  civilians  with  the 
universities  behind  them  and  their  careers  in  the 
making.  The  troops  are  fine  cheery  fellows — a 
mixture  of  Sikhs  and  Mohammedans,  cavalry  and 
infantry,  with  a  few  machine  guns.  They  have 
come  all  the  480  miles  from  Nushki  to  Seistan  on 
camels,  and  the  amount  of  supply  and  transport 
they  go  in  for  is  extraordinary. 

To  get  to  Seistan  I  had  to  cross  the  Hamun,  a 


76  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

broad  sheet  of  water  which  comes  down  from  the 
Afghanistan  highlands  and  spreads  itself  over  the 
low  country.  The  crossing  is  done  in  flat  canoe- 
shaped  rafts  made  of  reeds  and  date  palm,  which 
are  punted  gently  along  through  several  feet  of 
water  by  a  bare-legged  savage  standing  in  the 
stem.  I  arrived  at  the  water's  edge  shortly  after 
sunset,  and  there  was  a  great  hullabaloo  for  over 
half  an  hour,  at  the  end  of  which  I  got  on  my  horse 
and  rode  for  twenty  yards  through  sloppy  marsh 
to  the  raft.  My  kit  had  been  placed  on  other 
rafts,  and  my  ponies  were  stripped  and  taken  in 
tow.  We  pushed  off  in  line,  and  I  lay  back  very 
comfortably  with  quilts  and  blankets  and  pillows 
under  me  cunningly  arranged  to  soften  the  bones 
of  the  date  stems  and  invite  me  to  sleep.  We 
glided  along  through  a  narrow  clearing  in  a  forest 
of  reeds  fifteen  feet  high,  with  the  moon  overhead 
and  a  light  breeze  rustling,  and  the  cluck-cluck  of 
sleepy  waterfowl  in  the  reeds  alongside.  I  thought 
of  gondolas  in  Venice  and  punts  on  the  Thames, 
and  anon  I  fancied  myself  once  more  on  the  Shatt 
el  Arab,  being  borne  in  a  belam  from  Basreh  down 
to  Muhammerah  on  a  moonlit  night  in  April  with 
a  couple  of  Arab  belamchis  crooning  over  their 
paddles  in  the  bow.  Heaven  is  in  such  memories 
and  in  the  precious  moments  when  they  are 
awakened.  I  was  supremely  happy  foi^  ten 
minutes,  when — bzzz  I  a  little  fellow  sounded  his 
bugle  note  in  my  ear.     Reveille  !     My  dreams 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  77 

were  dispelled,  and  I  was  back  on  the  mosquito- 
plagued  Hamun  with  mj^  head  under  a  fold  of 
muslin  netting  and  the  little  wretches  recon- 
noitring around  me.  After  the  first  panic,  how- 
ever, I  ignored  the  evil  and  sat  up  and  smoked. 
We  glided  on  noiselessly,  with  just  a  faint  steady 
splosh  from  my  pony  treading  the  water  behind, 
and  the  sound  of  a  boy  singing  softly  in  the  rear 
of  the  line.  My  servant,  who  had  supplied  my 
wants  and  had  no  further  use  for  me,  curled 
himself  up  between  master  and  the  bare-legged 
savage.  He  was  soon  asleep  and  snoring  a 
gentle  lullaby,  till  I  too  slept. 

When  I  woke  again  it  was  nearly  midnight,  and 
we  had  reached  dry  land.  The  baggage  was  taken 
off,  and  the  horses  were  rubbed  down  and  given 
their  nosebags.  I  returned  to  my  raft  and  slept 
again  till  it  was  light,  when  a  two  hours'  canter 
across  the  plain  brought  me  to  Seistan. 

While  in  Seistan  I  renewed  acquaintance  with 
the  revenue  collector,  a  hirsute  little  prince  with 
a  good  education,  an  exceptionally  enlightened 
mind,  and  a  great  admiration  for  Napoleon. 
Like  many  other  Persians  he  has  made  a  close 
study  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  like  those 
others  he  mentally  tries  to  adapt  to  Persia's  needs 
the  methods  and  ideals  of  French  democracy. 
\'\nien  I  saw  him  he  had  been  much  perplexed,  he 
told  me,  as  to  the  right  attitude  to  take  up  in 
face  of  the  political  situation  created  by  the  pres- 


78  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

ence  of  British  troops  there  in  fighting  order  on 
Persian  soil.  He  had  nothing  but  praise  for  the 
behaviour  of  the  Indians,  and  had  spent,  he  said, 
an  enjoyable  evening  as  the  guest  of  the  officers. 

On  the  way  back  to  Birjand,  while  we  were 
crossing  a  hill  at  night,  I  met  a  small  party  of 
Persian  artillerymen  tramping  down  to  Seistan. 
They  reported  that  on  the  previous  night  they  had 
seen  a  balloon  (no  doubt  a  Zeppelin  !  )  passing 
southwards.  '  Balloons  '  have  often  been  seen  by 
star-gazers  in  this  district  in  the  last  two  months. 
Persians  are  nothing  if  not  imaginative,  and  I  have 
actually  heard  a  description  of  a  machine  which 
alighted  near  Kain  in  July.  It  carried  two  men, 
who  sat  in  an  enclosure  of  the  shape  and  size  of  a 
coffin.  When  they  wanted  to  start  again  they 
jumped  in  and  turned  a  wheel,  and  the  machine 
ran  along  the  ground  for  fifty  yards  and  stopped. 
The  pilot  got  out  and  operated  a  sort  of  wheel 
or  handle,  and  the  aeroplane  then  rose  and 
disappeared. 

At  Neh  I  met  the  deputy-governor,  a  tall 
countryman  with  a  keen  eye.  He  has  an  in- 
quiring mind,  and  wanted  to  know  about  all  sorts 
of  things,  such  as  the  possible  area  of  operation 
of  a  submarine,  the  height  of  the  earth's  atmo- 
sphere, and  the  nature  of  clouds.  There  also  I 
had  a  long  talk,  much  on  the  same  lines,  with  a 
lonely  young  prince  who  acts  as  telegraph  operator 
and  receives  a  salary  of  about  forty-five  pounds 
a  year.     The  Shahs  had  many  wives  in  the  old 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  79 

days,  as  you  may  have  heard.     As  a  consequence 
kings'  sons  are  plentiful  in  Persia. 

BiRjAND,  lOth  October  1915. 

Dear  M., — We  have  been  out  hawking  with  the 
Amir,  so  as  it  was  my  first  experience,  and  as 
hawking  is  an  old  British  sport,  I  must  tell  you 
all  about  it.  The  Amir  had  sent  for  his  hawks  a 
month  ago,  and  had  recently  promised  to  arrange 
a  day  for  us.  The  expected  invitation  came  on 
Sunday,  in  his  bold  handwriting,  which  is  full  of 
character,  but  just  a  little  difficult  to  read  till  you 
are  accustomed  to  it.  Here  is  a  translation  of 
the  letter.  The  original  is  written  with  a  reed 
pen  from  right  to  left,  without  punctuation,  on  a 
folded  sheet  of  cheap  European  writing  paper, 
and  commences  with  the  date,  22nd  Zi  Qa'deh, 
alongside  which  is  the  Arabic  '  ya  hu,'  which  is 
an  invocation  to  the  Deity ; 

'  May  I  be  thy  sacrifice, 

'  It  is  hoped  that  the  august  constitution  of  your 
excellency  is  in  the  perfection  of  health  and  well-being. 
I  shall  be  much  obliged  and  thankful  if  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  Tuesday  the  24th  Zi  Qa'deh,  at  three  hours 
after  midday,  you  will  bring  honour  to  the  bondsman's 
residence  so  that  we  may  go  in  company  for  a  little 
hawking.  Also,  if  for  the  partaking  of  dinner  with  your 
sincere  friend  you  will  maintain  honour  so  that  the  time 
for  bridge  play  may  be  prolonged,  it  will  be  an  increase  of 
obligation.  Beyond  this  there  is  no  trouble. 
'The  Sincere  Friend, 

•Muhammad  Ibrahim.' 


80  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

To  this  I  replied  : 

*  May  I  be  thy  sacrifice, 

*  At  the  news  of  the  well-being  of  the  existence  of 
the  most  noble  high  chief,  I  became  exceedingly 
gladdened.  In  accordance  with  the  command  of  the 
high  chief,  on  Tuesday  at  the  hour  appointed,  with  the 
perfection  of  disposition  and  distinction,  I  shall  attain 
to  honour. 

'The  Veritable  Friend, 

'F.  H.' 

And  I  addressed  the  envelope  : 

*  (In)  the  blessed  presence  of  the  most  glorious,  most 
honourable,  most  bountiful,  most  praised,  most  high 
chief,  Amir  Shoukat  ul  Mulk,  governor  of  the  Qayinat 
and  Seistan  (may  his  glory  endure)  let  it  be  honoured.' 

At  a  quarter  to  three  on  Tuesday  I  started  out, 
and  arrived  at  three  o'clock  in  the  Amir's  garden, 
where  the  autumn  tints  were  beginning  to  show 
on  the  fruit  trees.  I  found  the  Amir  sitting  with 
X.  and  the  prince,  and  very  shortly  afterwards 
we  all  mounted  and  moved  off  up  the  gravelly 
track  towards  the  foothills  a  mile  or  two  south. 
Our  serv^ants  rode  behind,  and  as  the  Amir  had 
about  a  dozen  men  in  his  following  we  made  quite 
a  cavalcade.  A  boy  of  sixteen  walked  by  the 
Amir's  bridle,  and  alongside  tramped  two  old  men 
bearing  each  a  hawk  on  his  right  wrist. 

On  the  way  we  discussed  the  latest  news  of  the 
war,  and  after  half  an  hour's  ride  we  reached  the 
foothills  at  the  chosen  spot  and  began  a  series  of 
short  climbs  and  descents.     Within  ten  minutes 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  81 

a  covey  of  see-see,  the  little  partridge  that  fre- 
quents these  bare  hills,  rose  with  a  whistle  and 
disappeared  round  a  bend.  We  dismounted  and 
advanced,  the  falconers  leading  with  the  bright- 
eyed  hawks  held  on  their  gloved  hands  by  a 
slender  thong  attached  to  a  leg-ring.  The  hawks 
had  at  no  time  been  hooded  :  they  were  now 
straining  for  their  release,  which  came  shortly. 
The  see-see  rose  again  twenty  yards  ahead  of  us, 
the  falconers  raised  their  hands  and  let  go,  and 
the  hawks  simultaneously  rose  and  pursued  in 
different  directions.  One  of  them  disappeared 
and  pinned  its  quarry  a  hundred  yards  away. 
The  other  went  straight  ahead  of  us,  lost  or 
overshot  its  mark,  and  alighted  on  a  jutting  rock 
that  overlooked  the  '  field.'  The  Amir's  men 
came  up  and  commenced  to  search  the  ground 
for  the  crouching  partridge,  while  the  hawk 
watched  the  proceedings  from  fifty  yards'  dis- 
tance. After  a  minute  or  two  a  couple  of  birds 
were  put  up  again,  and  a  lightning  chase  followed, 
which  ended  a  hundred  yards  off.  The  falconer 
ran  up  and  took  the  quarry,  bringing  the  hawk 
back.  We  again  went  forward,  and  in  a  short 
time  put  up  another  covey.  This  time  the  hawk 
pursued  unerringly.  Its  victim  skimmed  along  a 
few  yards  above  the  ground,  seeking  cover,  till 
it  was  brought  to  earth.  When  I  arrived  on  the 
scene  the  hawk  was  poised  on  its  quarry  with  its 
claws  gripping  behind  the  neck,  and  had  begun 


82  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

to  pluck  the  feathers  from  the  back  of  the  silent 
wide-eyed  and  motionless  partridge.  The  fal- 
coner came  up,  took  the  neck  and  back  of  the 
still-living  partridge  in  his  left  hand  and  its  legs 
in  his  right,  and  with  one  pull  dismembered  the 
body.  He  then  presented  the  legs,  which  had 
brought  away  the  greater  part  of  the  bird's  flesh, 
to  the  waiting  hawk.  When  this  gruesome  busi- 
ness was  over  I  felt  little  inclination  to  see  the 
process  repeated.  The  hawk  had  received  his 
meal,  however,  and  the  royal  and  ancient  sport 
was  ended  for  the  day.  Thereafter  we  took  guns 
and  walked  up  a  valley  on  the  chance  of  some 
shooting.  Fortune  didn't  favour  us,  and  event- 
ually we  mounted  our  waiting  horses  and  rode 
back  to  the  governor's  residence,  where  we  arrived 
about  sunset. 

Tea  was  brought,  and  we  had  an  animated 
conversation,  with  much  joking  and  laughter, 
every  one  being  in  high  feather  with  the  success 
of  the  afternoon.  When  tea  and  cake  was  over 
we  sipped  tumblers  of  sweet  fruit- sherbet,  and 
the  Amir  retired  for  the  evening  prayer.  He  is 
very  punctilious  in  such  matters,  and  sets  his 
people  an  admirable  example  of  unobtrusive 
but  steadfast  observance,  which  atones  in  the 
eyes  of  the  mullas  for  such  venial  errors  as  card- 
playing  with  foreigners.  When  he  returned  we 
settled  down  to  a  quiet  game  with  nominal  points, 
and  the  time  went  quickly  till  dinner  was  called 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  88 

for,  and  we  passed  into  the  dining-room.  There 
we  stood  at  a  Uttle  table  and  demoHshed  a  variety 
of  hors  d'ceuvres— pate  de  foie  gras  and  sardines 
and  lobster,  morsels  of  meat  roasted  on  spits,  and 
radishes  and  bread  and  butter.  When  we  had 
'  whetted  our  appetites  '  we  sat  down  to  dinner 
at  a  rectangular  table  in  the  middle  of  the  long 
room,  which  has  no  other  furniture  but  the  cane- 
bottomed  chairs  we  sat  on,  and  the  great  carpet 
on  the  floor,  and  the  English  lace  curtains  on  the 
windows.  Our  host  has  two  cooks,  one  of  whom 
is  skilled  in  European  dishes,  and  the  only  Persian 
course  we  were  offered  was  a  big  dish  piled  with 
cunningly-prepared  rice  flavoured  with  saffron, 
and  accompanied  by  a  dish  of  lumps  of  bony 
meat  with  tiny  pickled  limes  and  another  dish  of 
chopped  meat  stewed  with  lentils  and  spinach 
and  such  things.  The  wines  of  France  were 
brought  round,  and  there  was  little  to  remind  us 
that  we  were  not  in  Western  Europe,  unless  it 
were  the  neat  black  pill-box  hats  which  set  off  the 
clear-cut  features  and  imaginative  forehead  of  our 
host  and  the  trim  moustaches  and  rosy  com- 
plexion of  the  well-groomed  prince  who  faced  him 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table. 

I  am  reminded  of  the  absence  of  women  on 
these  occasions  by  the  appearance  of  the  two 
brummagem  china  flower- stands  of  European 
manufacture,  which  are  filled  with  flowers  tightly 
packed  in  a  mass  of  indiscriminate  bloom  that 


84  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

would  make  your  fingers  twitch  and  your  brows 
pucker.  The  utter  lack  of  art  shown  by  the 
Persian  in  such  matters  is  the  more  astonishing 
when  one  considers  the  beauty  of  the  rugs  and 
carpets  made  by  some  of  the  Kerman  weavers, 
beauty  of  form  and  colour  which  expresses  the 
national  grace  and  elegance  to  a  degree  unequalled 
in  the  world.  The  artists  who  can  create  the 
design  and  colour-scheme  for  such  products  are 
exceptionally  gifted,  but  the  ordinary  output  of 
Persian  looms  is  not  wanting  in  taste  and  origin- 
ality. The  worst  specimens  perhaps  are  ex- 
emplified by  the  little  rugs  woven  in  thousands 
by  the  women  and  children  of  the  tent-dwelling 
tribes  of  this  district.  Most  of  these  rugs  are 
frankly  crude  and  unlovely,  though  a  few  of 
them  are  a  delight  to  the  eye.  The  demand  for 
such  things  in  America  and  Europe  is  difficult  to 
account  for.  The  tribes  are  untaught,  of  course, 
and  proper  guidance  would  work  wonders.  The 
one  idea  that  is  instinctive  with  these  people  is 
that  of  symmetry.  The  larger  rugs  are  woven 
in  pairs  exactly  alike,  and  a  pair  of  these  always 
lies  symmetrically  at  the  far  end  of  a  reception 
room.  It  is  very  difficult  to  teach  a  house 
servant  that  chairs  should  not  be  placed  in  prim 
rows  along  the  walls  of  a  sitting-room,  but  perhaps 
that  is  due  to  native  custom,  which  demands 
that  guests  should  be  mustered  in  such  a  fashion — 
the  bigwigs  at  the  top  of  the  room  and  the  small 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  85 

fry  nearest  the  door,  the  centre  of  the  room  being 
empty  and  the  squatted  guests  forming  two  hnes 
down  the  sides.  By  this  arrangement  twenty 
people  can  be  conveniently  seated  in  a  room  of 
ordinary  size,  which  is  certainly  economical. 

During  dinner  a  gramophone  was  played  in  the 
passage  outside,  and  in  the  intervals  of  British, 
American,  Indian,  and  Persian  records  we  talked. 
The  Amir  is  not  a  ready  conversationalist,  and  has 
not  the  gift  of  sustaining  small  talk.  But  when 
one  can  manage  to  raise  a  subject  that  interests 
him  and  admits  of  discussion,  he  will  readily 
respond,  and  then  he  speaks  freely,  rationally, 
and  with  some  eloquence.  On  one  occasion  when 
we  were  a  party  of  eight,  a  new  arrival,  a  young 
Persian  with  an  earnest  mind  and  a  ponderous 
manner,  was  edifying  us  with  a  discourse  on  the 
immorality  of  war  in  general,  and  the  necessity 
for  its  abolishment  ethically  considered,  and  the 
sure  prospects  of  perpetual  and  world-wide  peace 
that  lay  at  most  a  matter  of  centuries  ahead. 
Protests  were  made,  heads  were  shaken  in  dis- 
agreement, and  a  mild  argument  followed.  An 
Englishman  evoked  natural  law  and  appealed  to 
the  past,  challenging  his  protagonist  to  prophesy 
against  the  whole  teaching  of  history  and  experi- 
ence. The  peace-lover,  who  had  been  educated  in 
Europe,  persisted  in  his  views  and  kept  the  ball 
rolling  till  our  host  was  referred  to.  The  Amir 
smiled.     '  What  can  I  say  ?  '    he  asked,  bending 


86  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

a  little  forward  and  fixing  his  dark  eyes  on  a  dish 
of  grapes.  '  It  would  be  a  fine  thing  certainly  if 
war  was  to  cease,  but  I  can't  dare  to  expect  it. 
As  So-and-so  said  just  now,  when  you  speak  of  war 
you  mean  blood-spilling  on  a  battlefield,  which  is 
only  one  kind  of  war.  There  are  innumerable 
other  kinds,  of  which  trade  competition  is  one, 
and  if  we  consider  a  state  of  humanity  where  all 
rivalry  and  jealousy  and  emulation  are  done  away 
with,  we  must  imagine  a  sort  of  living  creature  the 
like  of  which  is  not  to  be  seen  in  the  whole  world 
of  nature.  Natural  perfection  as  we  see  it  in 
plants  and  the  lower  animals  is  only  reached  by 
the  exercise  of  force.  Self-expression  is  a  mani- 
festation of  force,  and  is  always  directed  against 
some  form  of  resistance.  Here  are  eight  of  us 
engaged  in  a  discussion,  for  instance,  and  as  there 
are  two  sides  to  the  discussion  we  have  a  battle. 
We  may  say  that  any  struggle  or  endeavour, 
down  to  the  simplest  motion,  is  an  attempt  to 
overcome  some  form  of  resistance,  and  is  therefore 
a  kind  of  war,  however  much  it  may  differ  in 
degree.  The  principle  of  pressure,  whether  it 
hurts  or  wounds  or  slaughters,  is  the  same.  So 
it  comes  to  a  question  of  degree,  and  how  far  it  is 
necessary  to  go  in  a  certain  line.  Yes  ?  Well, 
if  you  clean  away  all  evil  and  crime  from  the  mind 
of  man  you  will  have  no  blood-spilling,  and  the 
more  evil  you  eliminate,  the  less  blood-spilling 
you  will  have,  I  suppose.     Also,  the  more  harmony 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  87 

and  co-operation  against  inorganic  force,  the 
less  blood-spilling.  But  can  you  eliminate  evil 
without  eliminating  the  good  also  ?  Are  they  not 
relative  ideas  ?  You  say  that  the  progress  of 
civilisation  is  improving  matters,  but  if  so,  then 
the  lesser  evil  of  the  future  will  not  be  judged  less, 
because  it  will  contrast  with  the  higher  good  of 
the  future.  So,  relatively  speaking,  evil  and 
crime  and  vice  will  always  exist.  But  you  say 
evil  can  be  controlled  without  bloodshed.  I 
suppose  it  can,  when  the  good  controls  it ;  but 
until  you  can  eliminate  the  possibility  of  private 
murder  by  an  individual  man  who  is  subject  to 
law  and  restraint,  how  can  you  eliminate  the 
possibility  of  war  by  one  state  on  another  ?  Let 
them  submit  to  arbitration  ?  Well,  when  two 
individuals  disagree,  they  have  an  unlimited 
choice  of  arbitrators,  and  also  the  law  and  police 
of  their  government,  and  yet  they  often  come  to 
blows,  either  from  excess  of  passion  or  from  dis- 
trust of  law  and  arbitration.'  The  Amir  paused, 
and  the  earnest  young  man  took  another  mouthful 
of  rice.  Our  host  continued  with  slackened 
speech  and  in  a  pensive  tone.  *  In  spite  of  what  I 
have  just  said,  I  have  always  had  the  idea  that 
the  greater  and  more  civilised  a  race  might  be, 
the  more  peace  it  would  enjoy.  But  what  can  we 
Persians  think  nowadays  ?  When  the  mightiest, 
most  wealthy  and  prosperous  and  intelligent 
powers  of  Europe,  to  whom  Ave  look  for  the  teach- 


88  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

ings  of  science  and  good  government,  are  engaged 
in  savage  warfare  on  a  scale  that  we  can  hardly 
form  a  conception  of  ?  Bah,  bah  !  when  we 
consider  that  already  the  casualties  in  Europe 
almost  equal  the  whole  population  of  Persia  !  ' 

I  am  afraid  I  have  given  you,  in  parts,  the  basis 
of  his  remarks  rather  than  the  exact  translation 
of  them.  I  remember  that  he  ended  with  a 
deprecating  little  laugh,  which  was  like  an  appeal 
to  us  to  leave  the  matter  at  that  and  to  make  the 
conversation  a  little  less  stodgy. 

BiRJAND,  29th  October  1915. 
Dear  M., — I  think  you  will  have  seen  a  good  deal 
about  Persia  in  the  newspapers  in  the  last  two 
months.  The  square- heads  are  coming  on,  and 
seem  to  be  making  very  fair  headway.  Our 
consul  in  Isfahan  having  been  shot  at  and 
wounded,  the  British  colony  there  were  forced 
to  withdraw  in  the  second  week  of  September, 
and  marched  across  the  Bakhtiari  mountains  to 
Ahwaz,  a  dreary  little  place  on  the  banks  of  the 
Karun  where  the  temperature  reaches  over  120° 
in  the  shade.  Teheran  is  now  in  a  state  of  politi- 
cal turmoil,  and  anything  may  happen  there. 
The  Germans,  with  Isfahan  in  their  control,  are 
sending  their  emissaries  eastwards  and  south- 
wards in  increasing  numbers.  They  dream  of 
emulating  the  deeds  of  Alexander  and  repeating 
the  history  of  327  B.C.  by  an  overland  march  to 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  89 

India.  As  this  is  impracticable  for  a  modern 
army  in  modern  Persia,  they  are  trying  to  raise 
Afghanistan  and  Persia  itself  against  us.  If  they 
can't  succeed  in  embroiling  the  Persian  govern- 
ment they  will  create  local  hostility.  Persia  is  a 
suitable  country  for  such  a  policy,  as  its  means 
of  communication  are  hopelessly  slow,  and  it  is 
peopled  by  very  diverse  races  and  tribes,  many 
of  whom  can't  be  properly  controlled  from  the 
capital.  As  the  agitators  are  well  provided  with 
money,  they  have  managed  to  engage  a  good  many 
mercenaries  and  to  secure  desirable  adherents. 
'  Here  am  I  on  Tom  Tiddler's  ground,'  says  the 
bold  Teuton,  '  scattering  gold  and  silver.  Gather 
round,  brother  Mohammedans,  and  I  will  fight 
your  battles  for  you.'  Whatever  the  results, 
they  have  had  fair  success  already,  as  several 
hundred  emissaries  from  Germany  and  Austria 
have  necessitated  the  sending  of  some  thousands 
of  British  and  Russian  troops  to  Persia  for  the 
protection  of  our  interests,  when  these  troops 
might  have  been  profitably  employed  elsewhere. 

Meanwhile  the  Indian  troops  stationed  at  Bir- 
jand  have  their  spirits  kept  up  by  alarms  and 
excursions  which  lead  to  nothing,  but  give  them 
something  to  talk  about.  The  officers  spend  a 
part  of  their  spare  time  wandering  about  the 
bazaars  or  buying  rugs.  The  rugs  are  brought 
to  the  mess  and  spread  out  for  examination. 
The  buyers  are  almost  experts  by  now,  and  at 


90  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

the  sight  of  a  crude  article  their  underhps  pro- 
trude and  the  broker  is  waved  away.  If  a  good 
pair  is  offered,  the  eye  beams,  an  interpreter  is 
summoned,  public  opinion  is  invited,  and  a  long 
discussion  follows,  which  passes  the  time  pleas- 
antly till  lunch  is  ready.  Carpets,  in  short,  have 
taken  the  place  that  polo  ponies  occupy  in  the 
mind  of  a  cavalry  subaltern  in  India.  You 
mustn't  imagine,  of  course,  that  the  officers  do 
no  work.  They  do  a  great  deal,  and  most  of  it 
is  uninteresting  and  not  in  the  least  exciting. 
Their  local  routine,  however,  is  varied  by  patrol 
work  on  the  north  road  up  to  Sihdeh,  where,  in 
the  course  of  looking  for  German  adventurers, 
they  keep  an  eye  open  for  the  possibilities  of 
shikar.  Not  having  been  blessed  with  a  glimpse 
of  an  enemy  so  far,  they  are  beginning  to  think 
that  hunting  for  Germans  in  this  part  of  the 
world  is  like  fishing  for  salmon  in  the  Thames  at 
Windsor.  Impatience,  after  all,  is  one  of  the 
soldier's  noble  vices.  They  remind  themselves  on 
these  little  expeditions  of  the  children's  rhyme — 

'  The  noble  Duke  of  York, 
He  had  ten  thousand  men ; 
He  marched  them  down  to  London  town, 
And  he  marched  them  back  again.' 

or  words  to  that  effect. 

Meanwhile,  they  have  attracted  the  notice  of 
certain  newspaper  editors  in  Teheran,  who,  with 
their  pockets  bulging  and  their  heads  in  a  perspira- 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  91 

tion,  have  been  concocting  (after  Poe)  a  few  '  Tales 
of  the  Arabesque  and  Grotesque  '  and  '  Tales  of 
Mystery  and  Imagination  '  based  on  the  tyranny 
and  misdeeds  of  the  British  and  Russian  troops 
in  Eastern  Persia.  The  Persians  in  Birjand,  of 
course,  estimate  these  fictions  at  their  proper 
value,  particularly  as  the  Amir  himself  has  also 
been  a  subject  for  abuse.  The  Birjandi  is 
sensible  enough  to  recognise  that  in  wartime, 
when  the  troops  of  a  neighbouring  power  are 
brought  in  to  oust  belligerents  of  hostile  intent, 
they  must  expect  the  movements  of  wayfarers 
to  be  rather  carefully  watched  and  questioned. 
But  they  do  not  construe  this  into  '  torture.' 

As  for  the  Amir,  his  position  is  quite  clear.  He 
tells  us  frankly,  over  a  cup  of  tea  or  a  rubber  of 
bridge,  that  he  is  a  loyal  servant  of  his  govern- 
ment, and  that  if  his  government  were  to  declare 
war  on  us  he  would  promptly  and  cheerfully  fight 
us.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  his  government  de- 
clared against  our  enemies,  he  would  equally 
promptly  and  cheerfully  fight  for  us — in  which 
case,  he  adds  privately  with  a  smiling  outburst 
of  national  pride,  our  troops  might  return  to 
India  and  he  would  do  their  work  for  them  with 
much  greater  ease  and  effectiveness. 

As  to  which  we  naturally  offer  no  opinion. 


92  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

BiRJAND,  80^^  November  1915. 

Dear  M., — Many  things  have  happened  smce 
I  wrote  you  a  month  ago,  and  much  diplomatic 
history  has  been  made  in  the  Middle  East.  Poor 
Persia,  who  contracted  an  attack  of  Teutonitis 
in  the  summer,  took  to  her  bed  in  September  with 
a  severe  headache  and  a  rising  temperature.  The 
disease  developed  steadily  and  affected  her  vital 
organs,  and  specialists  from  the  chief  capitals  of 
Europe  were  brought  to  her  bedside.  '  A  con- 
tagious disease,'  they  said.  '  She  has  caught  it 
from  her  neighbour  the  Turk,  who  should  not 
have  been  allowed  to  visit  her.  We  must  keep 
it  from  reaching  her  other  neighbours.'  So  they 
put  their  heads  together  and  discussed  and  agreed 
and  disagreed  and  wrote  little  prescriptions  and 
ordered  a  change  of  diet.  And  they  went  on 
writing  prescriptions  and  giving  advice,  and  the 
patient  went  on  getting  worse  because  her  children 
thought  they  knew  better  than  the  doctors  and 
gave  her  indigestible  things  to  eat.  The  crisis 
came  in  the  second  week  of  November,  when  her 
temperature  rose  to  danger  point,  and  her  children 
went  off  to  prepare  her  funeral  and  to  divide  up 
her  property  in  anticipation.  The  Russian  doctor, 
however,  had  ordered  some  ice  from  the  north, 
and  luckily  the  ice  arrived  just  in  time  and  was 
applied  to  her  burning  brow.  A  few  hours  of 
anxiety  followed,  but   at  last  her  brain  cooled 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  98 

and  the  fever  subsided.  The  speciahsts  looked 
at  each  other  and  nodded,  and  one  of  them  went 
softly  to  the  door  and  opened  it  gently  and  whis- 
pered to  the  children  waiting  outside.  '  It  is  all 
right.  The  Shah  will  not  leave  Teheran.'  But 
no  one  heard  him,  for  the  children  had  all  gone 
off  to  Qum  and  were  busy  playing  with  the  rifles 
and  guns  and  bombs  and  money-bags  which  their 
kind  uncle,  the  Kaiser,  had  just  sent  them. 

By  the  middle  of  November  all  fear  for  the 
capital  was  over.  The  Shah  proclaimed  his 
friendship  for  his  neighbours,  and  a  new  cabinet 
was  formed.  The  advocates  of  war,  however,  had 
already  committed  themselves,  and  in  the  pro- 
vinces the  sparks  began  to  fly.  Isfahan  became 
a  war  centre,  and  the  enemy  advanced  in  force 
from  Kermanshah  in  the  west.  On  the  23rd  I 
heard  that  the  consul  and  other  British  subjects 
in  Shiraz  had  been  arrested.  On  the  25th  I 
heard  that  all  our  people  had  left  Hamadan  for 
Kazvin,  and  on  the  27th  came  the  news  that  the 
bank  in  Sultanabad  had  been  looted.  A  merry 
week  indeed,  and  we  are  wondering  what  will 
come  next. 

And  what  about  sleepy  little  Birjand  all  this 
time  ?  Well,  on  a  certain  afternoon  when  the 
crisis  was  just  nearing  its  worst,  an  express  tele- 
gram came  through  from  Teheran  which  put  the 
situation  in  about  ten  words.  We  discussed  it 
together,  and  our  imaginations  dwelt  lovingly  on 


94  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

its  ridiculous  but  stimulating  possibilities.  I 
reminded  X.  that  we  were  due  to  dine  that 
night  with  the  Amir.  '  You  will  go,  of  course  ?  * 
*  Certainly,'  said  X.  '  I  wrote  an  acceptance  this 
morning,  and  so  did  you,  I  suppose.'  'Do  you 
think  he  knows  what  is  in  the  air  at  Teheran  ? ' 
'  Possible,'  said  X.,  '  but  I  really  don't  expect  he 
does.'     So  we  went.     Riding  out  to  the  Amir's 

garden  just  before  sunset  I  overtook  Captain 

humping  along  on  a  camel.  '  Hullo,'  he  said, 
'  what  do  you  think  of  the  news  ?  '  '  Very  inter- 
esting,' I  replied,  '  but  don't  take  it  too  seriously 
or  you  may  have  another  reaction.  It 's  prob- 
ably a  false  alarm,  like  the  ones  you  've  been  so 
disgusted  about  lately.'  There  was  a  pause,  and 
we  continued  at  a  walking  pace.     '  It  would  be 

rather  funny,'  said  Captain ,  '  if  after  dinner 

we  were  suddenly  invited  to  stop  the  night.'  '  It 
would,'  said  I ;  '  just  what  I  was  thinking  my- 
self.' In  due  course  we  arrived  and  found  the 
young  Persian  colonel  of  cavalry  with  the  Amir. 
The  pleasure  of  shaking  hands  with  our  host  was 
heightened  by  the  piquant  reflection  that  this 
might  possibly  be  the  last  meeting  at  which  we 
would  all  be  in  a  state  of  freedom.  We  drank 
the  usual  round  of  tea  with  the  usual  small  talk, 
and  when  shortly  afterwards  we  settled  to  bridge, 
the  sinister  potentialities  of  the  situation  were 
forgotten.  When  dinner  was  over  we  had  some 
boisterous  demonstrations  of  skill  and  agility,  in 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  95 

which  the  Persian  colonel  took  a  distinguished 
part.  The  Amir  himself  showed  the  suppleness 
of  his  joints  by  jumping  over  a  walking-stick  held 
in  both  hands,  and  picking  up  pins  from  the 
carpet  with  his  mouth  while  he  held  the  stick 
below  his  knees.  After  a  jolly  half-hour  of  pure 
boyishness  we  sobered  down  to  bridge  again.  At 
midnight  we  left.  Not  a  word  of  politics,  nor  the 
least  hint  of  electricity  in  the  atmosphere. 

A  week  or  so  later  I  met  Captain looking 

like  a  man  who  has  missed  his  train  at  a  wayside 
station  and  has  to  wait  ten  hours  for  the  next  one. 
*  What  did  you  do  this  morning  ?  '  he  asked. 
'  What  have  you  been  doing  this  afternoon  ? 
What  are  you  going  to  do  this  evening  ?  Has 
anything  ever  happened  in  Birjand  ?  I  'm  per- 
fectly certain  nothing  ever  will  happen,  pleasant 
or  unpleasant.  I  can't  imagine  why  we  came  to 
this  awful  place.  How  do  you  manage  to  exist  ?  ' 
I  felt  his  pulse  gravely,  and  prescribed.  '  Five 
grains  of  aspirin,  or  three  sets  of  tennis  with  the 
odds  heavily  against  you.  And  stop  thinking 
about  the  Quetta  Club.' 

Meanwhile  we  are  watching  with  great  in- 
terest the  doings  of  a  certain  little  force  that  is 
pushing  its  way  valiantly  up  the  long  Tigris  river 
towards  Baghdad.  If  Baghdad  is  taken,  the  G. 
buccaneers  in  Persia  will  have  to  run  away  home 
by  a  different  road  to  the  one  they  came  by. 
But  it  seems  rather  a  lot  to  expect. 


96  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

BiRjAND,  3rd  January  1916. 

Dear  M., — Your  letters  of  3rd  September  and 
14th  November  arrived  together  last  mail.  I 
haven't  had  one  from  P.  R.  for  a  long  time,  but 
I  expect  he  is  tired  of  getting  fiery  epistles  from 
me  when  his  battalion  is  still  marking  time  in 
England.  When  I  write  him  I  always  imagine 
him  to  be  in  France  or  in  hospital,  and  I  suppose 
that  sort  of  letter  hardly  relieves  the  burden  of 
parades  and  route  marches  at  home.  I  had  a 
letter  ten  days  ago  from  Mrs.  D.,  in  which  she 
congratulated  me  on  being  in  a  country  like 
Persia,  '  which  is  so  far  away  from  the  w^ar,  and 
where  no  one  is  likely  to  be  disturbed.'  That  was 
just  as  much  as  I  could  bear,  so  I  hope  you  will 
give  the  old  lady  a  harrowing  picture  of  things  as 
they  are  in  the  Wild  East  when  next  you  meet  her. 
The  Russians  occupy  the  north  and  are  in  touch 
with  the  enemy  at  Hamadan  in  the  west  and  on 
the  road  to  Isfahan  in  the  centre.  The  British 
bank's  branches  have  been  going  do^vn  like  nine- 
pins, and  the  whole  of  the  west,  centre,  and  south 
of  Persia  seems  to  be  under  the  control  of  Germans, 
Austrians,  and  Turks,  with  a  following  of  rebel 
Persian  gendarmerie  under  Swedish  officers,  and 
with  a  general  riff-raff  of  mercenary  menials  and 
warrior  hillmen  at  their  backs.  The  British 
colony  in  Yezd  was  finally  relieved  of  its  responsi- 
bilities and  its  cash  about  three  weeks  ago,  and  left 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  97 

to  find  its  own  way  to  safety.  At  the  same  time,  the 
colony  in  Kerman,  having  seen  enough  of  German 
aggressiveness  and  Persian  indifference  or  weak- 
ness in  the  last  few  months,  decided  to  evacuate 
and  make  for  Bundar  Abbas  on  the  Gulf  Coast. 
The  next  places  on  the  map  in  this  victorious 
eastward  march  of  the  enemy  are,  of  course, 
Birjand  and  Seistan,  so  you  can  work  on  your 
imagination  for  the  benefit  of  Mrs.  D.  You  might 
tell  her,  for  instance,  that  we  sleep  in  our  clothes 
every  night  with  revolvers  beside  us  and  the  doors 
barricaded, — that  we  never  venture  out— that  our 
houses  are  surrounded  by  wire  entanglements, 
and  that  those  who  hadn't  a  cellar  on  their  pre- 
mises before  have  now  got  the  latest  type  of 
dug-out.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  we  are 
living  absolutely  as  usual. 

We  had  a  full  house  on  New  Year's  Eve  at  the 
vice-consulate,  which  is  also  the  mess  quarters. 
There  were  fourteen  of  us  at  dinner,  half  the 
number  being   Persian   officials.     The   governor 

sat  on  the  right  of  Colonel ,  and  on  his  left  was 

the  newly-appointed  revenue  collector,  a  sensible 
and  industrious  little  man  of  middle  age,  with  a 
practical  mind,  a  businesslike  manner,  and  a 
sense  of  humour.  One  of  the  other  officials  was 
unable  to  be  present,  but  his  place  was  filled  by  a 
minor  dignitary,  who  on  discovering  that  he  was 
not  to  receive  an  invitation  had  begged  for  one. 
The  colonel,  who  has  been  learning  Persian  but 


98  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

is  much  too  English  ever  to  be  able  to  speak  it 
properly,  kept  his  end  of  the  table  going  with 
anecdotes  and  stories  for  children,  the  most 
amusing  part  of  which,  as  he  well  knew,  was  the 
Anglo-Indo-Persian  idiom  in  which  they  were 
given.  The  colonel  has  acquired  a  reputation 
for  this  form  of  entertainment.  In  the  middle 
of  dinner  he  adjusted  his  glasses  and  addressed 
me  with  a  smile  of  anticipation.  '  I  want  to  tell 
them  the  story  of  the  Bees  and  the  Snail.  Now 
what  is  the  Persian  for  a  snail  ?  '  I  was  floored, 
of  course,  never  having  seen  one  in  the  country  ; 
so  I  appealed  to  the  revenue  collector  and  asked 
him  what  was  an  escargot  in  Persian.  The  con- 
versation round  the  table  stopped,  and  all  eyes 
were  directed  on  him  while  his  reply  was  anxiously 
awaited.  Satisfaction  was  not  to  be  had,  however, 
and  he  in  turn  referred  the  momentous  question 
to  the  governor,  describing  the  creature  by  cir- 
cumlocutions. The  colonel  here  called  for  paper 
and  a  pencil,  and  drew  a  careful  sketch  of  a  snail 
rampant,  which  he  handed  to  the  governor.  The 
Amir  suggested  a  name,  and  referred  the  question 
to  one  of  the  table  servants,  who  suggested 
another  name.  The  subject  was  taken  up  gener- 
ally, and  the  sketch  was  criticised.  The  paper  was 
passed  round  the  table  and  covered  with  snails  by 
various  people,  and  was  then  returned  to  the 
colonel,  who  was  still  smiling  sweetly.  '  Once 
upon  a  time,'  he  began,   '  there  was  a  horned 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  99 

dragon  two  inches  long  with  its  house  on  its  back.' 
The  initial  difficulty  being  at  last  overcome,  he 
got  through  the  story  with  much  success. 

After  dinner  a  bridge  four  was  started,   and 

Major drew  partners  with  an  I.A.R.  cavalry 

officer  against  the  governor  and  the  prince.  The 
deal  fell  to  the  prince,  who  called  two  royal 
spades.  '  Three  hearts,'  said  the  I.A.R.O.  '  No,' 
said  the  Amir.  '  Three  no  trumps,'  said  the 
major,  calling  over  his  partner.  '  Dub-bel,'  said 
the  prince.  '  Four  hearts,'  said  the  I.A.R.O.,  who 
is  an  old  rugby  forward.     '  Dabel,'  said  the  Amir. 

'  Four  no  trumps,'  said  Major  ,  who  is  an 

officer  to  command  respect.  '  Dub-bel,'  said  the 
prince  in  a  bored  voice.  The  I.A.R.O.  having 
called  three  hearts  and  been  twice  overcalled  by 
his  own  partner,  considered  his  hand  again  and 
tightened  his  mouth.  His  eye  gleamed  fire,  and 
he  suddenly  showed  a  double  chin  which  hadn't 
been  there  before.  '  Five  hearts,'  he  said,  hold- 
ing eight  minus  the  ace  and  king.  The  governor 
doubled  joyfully.  The  major  drew  back  his  neck, 
which  had  a  blush  all  over  it.  He  made  a  little 
cough  and  puffed  furiously  at  his  cigar.  His  hand 
held  three  aces  and  the  king  of  spades — all  super- 
dreadnoughts,  with  a  fleet  of  destroyer  hearts  in 
his  partner's  hand  and  the  king  third  in  his  own. 
Certainly  he   must  conduct  this  battle  himself. 

These  younger  men .     '  Five  no  trumps.'     The 

prince    doubled    and    began    to    reckon    up    his 


100  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

winnings.  The  others  passed,  and  the  major, 
committed  to  death  or  victory,  redoubled.  The 
I.A.R.O.  gave  up  the  struggle,  put  down  the 
dummy  hand  with  an  air  of  aggrieved  rectitude, 
and  relit  his  pipe.  The  governor  held  the  ace  of 
hearts  second,  and  the  major  lost  one  trick.  I  had 
better  not  repeat  the  interesting  but  rather  long 
discussion  that  followed.  Enough  to  say  that 
we  had  a  merry  evening  and  saw  the  New  Year 
in  with  the  traditional  honours. 

BiRJAND,  I7th  March  1916. 

Dear  M., — King  Charles  has  lost  his  head,  and 
the  Roundhead  sits  in  his  place — by  which  you 
are  to  understand  that  the  Amir  Shoukat  ul  Mulk 
has  been  dismissed  and  ordered  to  Teheran,  and 
that  his  nephew  and  rival,  the  Amir  Hisam  ud 
Douleh,  is  now  governor  in  Birjand.  It  is  a  sad 
business  and  rather  a  long  story,  but  as  it  may 
suggest  to  you  a  few  ideas  about  Persian  politics, 
I  may  as  well  give  you  the  local  history  of  the  past 
two  months.  The  case  is  of  general  interest  for 
two  reasons.  The  first  is  that  the  Amirs  of  Kain 
are  among  the  few  remaining  hereditary  governors 
in  Persia,  and  they  are  perhaps  the  only  instance 
of  a  family,  without  royal  blood  and  with  no  tribal 
chieftainship,  retaining  through  many  generations, 
by  wealth  and  local  influence,  their  administra- 
tive powers  over  a  considerable  district.  The 
second  reason  is  that  Birjand,  their  present  seat 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  101 

of  government,  being  midway  on  the  route  from 
Russia  through  Khurasan  to  India,  has  in  the 
past  frequently  been  a  scene  of  rivalry  and  covert 
contention  for  influence  between  the  representa- 
tives of  England  and  Russia  :  the  town  itself  was 
allocated  in  1907  by  the  two  powers  as  being 
within  the  British  sphere  of  influence,  of  which 
it  marked  the  north-eastern  limit.  This  rivalry, 
though  hushed  by  the  greater  business  of  the  war, 
continues  even  now  on  friendly  lines  as  between 
Khurasan  and  Seistan,  or  between  Petrograd  and 
Simla. 

To  keep  his  position,  in  the  altered  state  of 
Persia,  the  governor  of  Kain  has  to  maintain  his 
authority  and  popularity  with  the  people,  to  act 
in  concert  with  the  views  of  England  and  Russia, 
and  to  placate  the  court  at  Teheran.  As  the 
Shoukat  ul  Mulk  is  by  a  long  way  the  biggest 
landowner  in  the  Kain  district,  it  is  easy  for  a 
man  of  his  attractive  personality  to  command 
obedience  and  popularity.  The  local  people  are 
as  pacific  and  amenable  as  any  in  Persia,  and 
hereditary  loyalty  is  a  strong  factor  of  his  power. 
The  Hisam  ud  Douleh,  who  is  of  ruder  blood  on 
the  distaff  side,  could  rival  him  only  in  action  and 
forcefulness,  and  has  less  personal  distinction. 
To  either  of  the  family  it  was  easy  to  satisfy  the 
Shah  and  his  ministers  with  the  gifts  that  circum- 
stances required  from  time  to  time.  The  only 
difficulty,  therefore,  for  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  was 


102  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

to  hold  the  favour  of  the  foreign  representatives. 
Being,  in  addition  to  his  other  agreeable  qualities, 
a  master  of  finesse,  he  succeeded  in  preserving  the 
friendliest  relations  with  the  British,  whose  good 
offices  had  already  secured  him  in  his  appoint- 
ment against  the  claims  and  intrigues  of  his 
elder  brother,  the  present  Hisam  ud  Douleh's 
father. 

His  relations  with  the  Russians  have  always 
been  less  cordial.  Apart  from  the  question  of 
personality,  the  policy  of  Russia  in  Persia  is  too 
aggressive  for  his  liking.  While  it  is  in  the  British 
interest  to  keep  Persia  standing  on  her  own  legs, 
the  Russians,  by  mere  geographical  contiguity  to 
the  richest  provinces  of  a  feeble  and  degenerate 
power,  are  almost  in  the  nature  of  things  drawn 
into  a  policy  of  encroachment.  A  local  ruler  with 
a  sense  of  independence,  jealous  of  his  honour  and 
dignity  and  loyal  to  his  throne,  will  therefore 
prefer  to  shake  hands  with  Britain  rather  than 
rub  shoulders  with  Russia.  Apprehension,  in  a 
man  of  character,  breeds  dislike,  and  dislike 
breeds  hostility.  The  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  disliked 
Russia,  though  his  feelings  went  no  further.  As 
a  consequence,  his  rival,  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh, 
became  a  Russian  proteg6,  and  looked  mainly  to 
Russia  for  diplomatic  support.  The  Hisam  ud 
Douleh  was,  moreover,  in  disfavour  with  the 
British,  having  been  dismissed  from  Seistan,  partly 
at  their  instance,  on  a  charge  of  tacit  encourage- 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  103 

ment  to  the  Baluch  tribes  who  raided  southern 
Kain  four  years  ago. 

Matters  stood  hke  that  in  1914,  when  the  rival 
interests  of  Britain  and  Russia  were  suddenly 
united  for  the  war,  much  to  the  annoyance  of 
those  Persians  who  had  enjoyed  knocking  their 
heads  together.  As  the  war  dragged  on  and  it 
was  seen  that  our  joint  prognostications  of  early 
victory  were  not  realised,  and  that  Germany 
retained  her  conquests,  the  influence  of  this  third 
power,  aided  by  that  of  Turkey,  became  an  in- 
creasingly important  factor  in  the  situation. 
During  the  last  six  months  of  1915,  the  Shoukat 
ul  Mulk  watched  the  progress  of  German  activities 
in  central  and  southern  Persia.  The  steady 
advance  of  their  propagandists  and  armed  forces 
towards  his  district  impressed  him,  and  he  be- 
came doubtful  of  the  issue.  Unable  to  foresee 
with  certainty  the  results  of  the  war  in  Europe  as 
affecting  the  local  power  in  Persia  of  Britain  and 
Russia,  he  adopted  a  policy  of  extreme  circum- 
spection and  directed  his  efforts  to  the  avoidance 
of  offence  to  either  side.  He  attached  no  import- 
ance to  the  German  violation  of  Persian  neutrality, 
which  he  considered  had  been  already  violated  by 
the  presence  of  Russian  troops  in  the  north-west. 
His  satellites  in  Birjand,  in  love  with  the  fair 
promises  of  Germany  and  full  of  feminine  admira- 
tion of  Germany's  achievements,  urged  him  to 
definite  secret  support  of  our  enemies.     He  took 


104  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

his  stand,  however,  on  impHcit  obedience  to  the 
orders  of  his  own  government  in  Teheran. 

The  orders  ultimately  received  by  him  in 
December  and  January  were  to  support  us  in  all 
friendliness  and  to  put  down  hostile  agitation. 
Even  these  mild  instructions  he  privately  re- 
garded as  wrung  from  a  cabinet  overawed  by  the 
presence  of  large  Russian  troops.  '  I  cannot 
construe  this  sort  of  thing,'  he  said,  '  as  a  definite 
order  to  oppose  the  progress  of  armed  Germans. 
The  cabinet  are  afraid  to  assume  the  responsi- 
bility of  issuing  such  an  order.  How  can  they 
expect  me,  their  servant,  to  assume  the  greater 
responsibility  of  hostile  action  without  definite 
instructions  ?  '  The  orders,  however,  clearly  di- 
rected him  to  discountenance  German  activities 
among  the  people  of  the  district,  and  this  was 
never  done. 

The  situation  grew  more  tense,  and  the  Shoukat 
ul  Mulk  was  definitely  warned  that  unless  proof 
of  his  friendship  was  forthcoming  he  would  lose 
his  position.  '  I  can  understand  that,'  he  replied. 
'  It  is  difficult  for  the  cabinet  to  authorise  open 
hostility  to  German  parties,  but  it  is  an  easy 
matter  for  them  to  dismiss  one  governor  and 
appoint  another.  They  will  oblige  you  in  that 
respect  with  the  greatest  pleasure  !  '  He  fully 
realised  that  his  nephew,  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh, 
who  had  been  all  this  time  in  Teheran,  was  an 
eager  candidate  for  his  government,   was  being 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  105 

actively  supported  by  the  Russians,  and  was  no 
longer  under  a  cloud  with  the  British. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh  left 
Teheran  about  this  time  and  arrived  in  Meshed. 
In  February  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  received  a  tele- 
gram from  Teheran  instructing  him  to  proceed  to 
Meshed  'to  discuss  with  the  governor-general 
certain  matters  of  revenue.'  Shortly  afterwards 
he  received  sanction  to  go  direct  to  Teheran,  and 
on  the  27th  of  February  he  left  Birjand,  accom- 
panied by  the  majority  of  his  satellites  and  follow- 
ers. A  few  days  before  his  departure  a  telegram 
was  received  by  the  revenue  collector  and  the  agent 
for  foreign  affairs  from  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh, 
directing  them  to  assume  control  pending  his 
arrival.  These  two  officials  commenced  to  act 
without  waiting  till  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  had  left 
the  town,  and  amongst  other  things  a  retainer  of 
the  dismissed  governor  was  engaged  by  them. 
The  angry  Amir  sent  for  the  revenue  collector  and 
gave  him  a  severe  rating,  and  the  servant  in 
question,  who  was  a  son  of  the  former  chief  of 
police,  was  likewise  sent  for,  and  was  given  a  sound 
whipping  as  a  lesson  in  fealty  and  good  manners. 

On  the  day  of  the  Amir's  departure  the  soldiers 
were  drawn  up  in  line  at  a  point  of  his  route  just 
outside  the  town,  and  there  a  crowd  assembled. 
Across  the  roadway  at  this  point  a  string  was 
stretched,  attached  to  an  upheld  pole  on  either 
side  of  the  road.     In  the  middle  of  the  string  a 


106  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

copy  of  the  Koran  was  suspended,  and  the  Amir 
kissed  the  book  as  his  carriage  passed  under  it, 
many  of  his  followers  doing  likewise.  About  the 
same  time  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh  left  Meshed  for 
Birjand,  and  the  two  Amirs,  uncle  and  nephew, 
who  had  not  seen  each  other  for  some  years, 
passed  on  the  road  within  a  few  miles  of  each 
other  without  meeting  or  exchanging  messages. 

On  the  12th  of  this  month  the  Amir  Hisam  ud 
Douleh  arrived  in  Birjand,  and  was  welcomed  by 
a  much  larger  crowd  than  had  witnessed  the 
Shoukat  ul  Mulk's  departure.  We  called  on  him 
the  following  day,  and  he  made  many  protesta- 
tions of  friendship,  which  were  repeated  when  he 
returned  the  calls.  He  spoke  to  me  of  what  he 
had  heard  as  to  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk's  friendship. 
'  They  much  indication  of  kindness  with  the  slave 
had,'  I  replied.  '  No  doubt  your  Excellency  in 
the  same  way  will  make  command.'  We  smiled 
gravely,  and  he  remarked  that  the  Shoukat  ul 
Mulk  (who  is  thirty-four  and  about  the  same  age 
as  himself)  was  '  a  good  lad  ' — an  expression 
which  amused  me  by  its  studied  detachment. 

Well,  King  Charles,  with  his  Gallic  grace  and 
esprit,  his  hel  air  and  princely  manners,  has  left 
us,  and  here  we  are  exchanging  compliments  with 
Cromwell,  who  is  of  average  height,  stout  and 
round-headed,  and  has  weak  eyes  and  a  soft  voice 
and  manner,  and  a  facile  flow  of  speech.  X.  has 
asked  for  leave,  and  I  am  trying  to  get  away  too. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  107 

I  haven't  much  hope  though,  and  neither  has  X., 
though  he  hasn't  been  home  for  seventeen  years. 
As  for  the  officers  of  our  Indian  troops,  they  have 
wanted  to  leave  Persia  from  the  day  they  arrived. 
But  they  hke  the  new  governor  because  he  is 
amiable  and  talkative.  '  The  other  fellow  was  a 
bit  lordly,'  and  they  didn't  altogether  trust  him. 
'  Never  quite  knew  where  you  were  with  the 
Shoukat !  '  Even  they,  however,  regret  King 
Charles  and  his  tennis  and  bridge  parties,  and 
his  '  jolly  little  dinners.' 

As  for  the  people  of  Birjand,  their  small  arms 
don't  count  for  much  when  the  big  guns  are 
booming.  We  rather  expected  a  hostile  demon- 
stration, but  no  such  thing  happened.  Only 
the  active  partisans  of  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk 
are  apprehensive,  and  many  of  their  number 
went  away  in  his  train.  The  soldiers  received  a 
donative,  and  are  pleased  for  the  moment.  The 
whole  of  the  ex-governor's  staff  is  now  out  of 
office,  and  the  Hisam  ud  Douleh  will  have  to 
find  a  new  set  of  officials  for  the  town  and  district. 
This  wholesale  change  of  personnel  always  takes 
place  when  a  provincial  governor  is  dismissed, 
and  the  result  is  delay  and  expense  and  incom- 
petence and  intrigue  for  some  time  afterwards — 
between  the  new  set,  who  are  ignorant  of  local 
affairs  and  routine,  and  the  old  set,  who  are  out 
of  employment  and  feel  it  their  duty  and  pleasure 
to  be  obstructive. 


108  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Meanwhile,  the  poHtical  situation  in  western 
Persia  has  changed  for  the  better.  Our  friends 
were  back  in  Hamadan  in  the  beginning  of 
January,  and  in  Sultanabad  towards  the  end 
of  February — thanks  to  the  Russians,  who  have 
now  gone  further  and  driven  the  enemy  out  of 
Kermanshah.  The  Germans  and  Austrians  and 
Turks  in  central  Persia  have  thus  had  their  line 
of  supply  and  retreat  cut  off,  and  we  may  expect 
to  hear  of  their  scuttling  out  of  Kerman  and 
Yezd  very  shortly.  In  the  altered  state  of  things 
the  Hisam  ud  Douleh  will  have  no  temptation  to 
go  against  us  or  even  to  beat  about  the  bush  dis- 
creetly as  his  predecessor  was  accused  of  doing — 
all  of  which  seems  rather  bad  luck  for  King  Charles. 

BiRJAND,  2nd  May  1916. 

Dear  M., — ^The  days  are  very  dull  at  present, 
and  my  idle  afternoons  are  very  long,  so  to  pass 
the  time  I  have  been  delving  into  Persian  romance, 
which  my  housemaid  reads  to  me  regularly  after 
lunch.  My  housemaid  is  a  gamin  of  fifteen,  with 
a  pale  face,  a  bright  eye,  and  a  brighter  intelli- 
gence. His  father  was  ruined  by  opium-smoking, 
and  his  brothers  are  opium-smokers.  He  him- 
self has  taken  to  cigarettes,  which  he  puffs 
surreptitiously.  I  remember  the  joy  of  those 
illicit  puffs  at  the  same  age  or  a  little  earlier. 
I  remember  also  the  lectures  that  didn't  impress 
me  very  much.     So  I  lectured  Hassan  one  evening 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  109 

on  the  evils  of  smoking  at  his  age,  and  in  the 
middle  of  my  remarks,  when  I  paused  to  light  a 
cheroot,  the  head  flew  off  my  match  and  singed 
the  sleeve  of  my  coat.  '  There,'  I  said,  '  you  have 
an  example  of  the  evils  of  smoking.'  But  I  'm 
afraid  the  example  was  lost  on  him,  and  I  think 
that  if  I  were  to  keep  count  of  my  cigarettes  I 
should  find  two  or  three  missing  daily.  Hassan 
is  a  good  lad,  and  works  well.  It  is  pleasanter 
for  me  to  develop  his  reading  powers  than  to 
strengthen  my  own,  and  we  get  along  faster  that 
way,  though  he  needs  help  over  a  strange  word 
occasionally.  Persian  books  have  no  punctua- 
tion whatever,  which  makes  matters  difficult  : 
also  the  word  '  but,'  for  instance,  would  be  written 
simply  '  bt '  in  Persian,  which  might  mean  *  bat '  or 
*bit.'  With  Hassan,  however,  the  difficulty  all 
depends  on  what  book  he  is  given  to  read. 
The  only  book  he  himself  possessed  was  a  Lives 
of  the  Saints  or  Book  of  Martyrs,  the  sort  of  thing 
our  Puritan  forefathers  revelled  in. 

I  tried  him  first  of  all  with  the  Lights  of  Canopus, 
which  is  rather  like  ^sop^s  Fables  on  a  big  scale. 
It  is  a  very  wordy  and  long-winded  book,  full  of 
wise  saws  expressed  in  ornate  and  artificial  lan- 
guage, and  the  reader  had  to  struggle  so  painfully 
over  the  verbal  obstacles  that  the  matter  of  the 
anecdotes  barely  reached  his  mind.  So  we  gave 
that  up,  and  he  brought  me  a  book  called  Malek 
Arslarit  which  is  a  novel  of  gay  and  wonderful 


110  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

adventure.  This  he  simply  raced  through  as 
quickly  as  he  could  find  breath.  It  was  full  of 
magicians  and  jinns  and  warriors  and  moon-faced 
princesses  and  astonishing  deeds  of  derring-do 
performed  by  the  matchless  young  hero.  It  had 
no  difficulties  for  Hassan,  who  had  already  listened 
to  its  tale  of  marvels  and  would  have  liked  to  read 
it  over  again  when  we  had  come  to  the  end. 
After  that  I  gave  him  a  copy  of  the  Iskandar 
Namehy  and  again  we  opened  the  doors  of 
Romance  for  an  hour  daily.  When  I  call  for 
Hassan  he  washes  his  hands  (a  very  necessary 
operation),  puts  his  coat  on,  kicks  off  his  shoes 
at  the  door  of  my  room,  and  stands  to  attention 
with  the  big  book  on  the  table  before  him.  At 
the  word  of  command  he  begins  where  he  left  off 
the  day  before — sometimes  in  the  middle  of  a 
sentence.  He  reads  in  a  loud  clear  voice,  and  has 
learned  to  use  natural  emphasis  and  variation  of 
tone,  whereas  the  ordinary  schoolboy  reels  off  a 
book  in  mechanical  fashion.  As  his  voice  is  at  the 
breaking  stage,  it  wolfs  every  now  and  then  like  a 
badly  plaj^ed  violin. 

The  Iskandar  Nameh  is  the  story  of  the  achieve- 
ments of  Alexander  the  Great  of  Macedonia,  who 
died  nearly  a  thousand  years  before  the  birth 
of  the  Mohammedan  religion.  By  a  convenient 
anachronism  this  peerless  prince.  Lord  of  the  East 
and  of  the  West,  is  described  as  a  true  Moham- 
medan, who  went  about  to  give  battle  to  heathen 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  111 

rulers,  putting  them  to  the  sword  and  kiUing  or 
converting  them.  His  doughty  warriors  and 
princehngs  engage  in  numberless  single  combats 
with  giants  and  sorcerers  on  horses,  elephants, 
or  dragons.  Many  an  idolatrous  chief,  waving  a 
sword  three  tons  in  weight,  mocks  at  the  heroes 
who  dare  to  match  their  puny  powers  with  his. 
The  fight  sometimes  lasts  for  days,  in  which  case 
the  combatants  retire  at  sunset  to  refresh  their 
horses  and  themselves.  The  drums  of  war  beat 
in  the  rival  camps,  and  at  sunrise  the  contest  is 
renewed.  Throughout  the  book  the  clash  of  steel 
rarely  ceases  except  to  introduce  as  comic  relief 
the  escapades  of  vassal  imps  who  visit  the  enemy 
king  in  disguise,  drug  him  to  sleep,  release  his 
captives,  and  clip  his  beard,  or  perform  pranks  of 
a  less  innocent  nature,  to  his  annoyance  and  hurt. 
The  challenges  and  vauntings  of  the  combatants, 
and  the  battle  phrases  of  the  narrative,  have 
a  profane  suggestion  of  the  blood -stirring  old 
English  of  Malory,  but  the  book,  when  all  is  said 
and  done,  is  too  full  of  lies  and  licence  for  the  idle 
heads  of  boys.  So  after  a  while  I  confiscated  the 
Iskandar  Nameh,  and  Hassan  brought  me  a  copy 
of  the  Shahnameh  in  very  fair  print,  which  I 
bought  for  sixteen  shillings,  promising  to  present 
it  to  him  when  he  could  read  it  properly. 

The  Shahnameh  is  the  Epic  of  Kings,  the  finest 
book  in  the  whole  of  Persian  literature.  Like  the 
Iliad,  it  has  preserved  for  us  the  fabulous  and 


112  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

splendid  youth  of  the  race,  whose  kings  and  heroes 
it  enshrines  in  martial  verse.  The  difference 
between  Homer  and  Firdousi  is  mainly  the 
difference  between  Pagan  and  Zoroastrian.  The 
Shahnameh  was  written  at  the  end  of  the  tenth 
century.  It  begins  with  the  mythological  past, 
and  carries  the  epic  history  of  Persia  down  to  the 
Islamic  conquest.  Its  language  is  pure,  noble, 
and  of  knightly  simplicity.  Its  marching  coup- 
lets are  themselves  like  an  endless  army  of  mail- 
clad  knights  with  banners  waving  in  the  sun. 
They  are  like  Handel's  music.  The  sacred  fire 
burns  throughout.  The  praise  of  famous  men 
revives  the  pristine  generous  virtue  of  a  god- 
like age,  when  heroes  were  of  a  different  stature 
to  ours  in  mind  and  body — when  strength  of 
arm  and  faith,  chivalry,  courage,  and  gentleness 
united  in  the  supreme  revelation  of  manhood,  in 
the  galvanic  force  and  fury  of  well-found  battle. 

You  would  think  that  this  national  epic  would 
be  read  in  Persia  by  all  who  can  read,  but  it  is  not 
so.  The  pious  Mohammedan  fears  to  warm  his 
heart  at  the  Zoroastrian  fire,  and  the  present-day 
Persian  prefers  erotic  verse,  with  which  his  un- 
stable and  degenerate  mind  is  more  in  sympathy. 
The  Shahnameh  is  relegated  to  tribesmen  and 
dervishes.  The  former  read  it  aloud  amongst 
themselves  in  their  encampments.  The  latter 
learn  its  episodes  by  heart  and  recite  them  in  the 
coffee-shops  of  towns,  striding  up  and  down  in  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  113 

midst  of  the  company  as  their  hearts  warm  to  the 
work. 

The  language  of  the  Shahnameh  contains  many 
obsolete  words  which  make  it  difficult  to  read 
till  one  has  learned  them.  The  master-baker  who 
sold  me  my  copy  volunteered  to  read  me  a  few 
pages,  so  I  sent  for  him  one  evening  and  seated 
him  with  the  book  in  the  presence  of  two  prim 
young  Persians,  neither  of  whom  could  read  it  at 
all  correctly,  though  one  of  them  was  a  junior 
schoolmaster.  The  honest  baker  was  abashed  in 
their  presence,  though  he  had  little  reason  to  be. 
Eventually  I  got  him  started.  He  chose  the  most 
famous  episode  of  the  book,  the  death  of  Zohrab 
in  single  combat  with  his  unknown  father,  Rustam 
— the  sublime  tragedy  which  you  have  read  of  in 
Matthew  Arnold's  verse.  My  honest  baker  didn't 
speak  the  story,  he  chanted  it  as  the  dervish  does, 
on  a  mournful  rhythm  that  was  like  a  sea-swell 
after  shipwreck. 

Afterwards  I  got  Hassan  to  the  task,  and  we 
consulted  the  glossary  together  till  the  lines  began 
to  flow  easily.  Poor  Hassan !  He  is  a  very 
ordinary  kiddy,  and  the  bardic  spirit  is  not  his. 
But  the  heroic  youth  of  Persia  often  seems  to 
linger  in  the  blood  of  her  young,  and  the  ghost  of 
the  golden  age  flits  before  us,  sometimes,  as  he 
reads. 


114  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

BiRJAND,  30//i  June  1916. 

Dear  M., — In  the  last  three  weeks  our  httle 

community  has  dwindled  down  to  Captain  , 

in  command  of  a  squadron  of  Indian  cavalry,  and 
myself.  The  colonel  of  infantry  went  off  to 
Baluchistan  a  month  or  two  ago  amid  general 
regrets,  and  lately  two  other  officers  have  followed 
him.  X.,  whose  presence  I  never  ceased  to  be 
grateful  for  in  the  last  two  and  a  half  years,  has 
left  us  in  the  prime  of  life  after  a  struggle  with 
fever.  He  applied  for  holiday  leave  some  months 
ago,  and  was  refused  on  account  of  the  war.  His 
death  was  hard  to  realise  at  first,  though  a  sense 
of  his  absence  was  forced  on  us  at  every  turn.  He 
was  a  man  who  would  have  found  it  impossible 
to  make  an  enemy. 

I  am  cross  with  the  fates  for  many  reasons,  and 
my  greatest  desire  is  to  do  like  the  others,  and  quit 
Birjand  as  soon  as  possible.  The  place  has  been 
stripped  of  its  attractiveness,  and  everything 
grows  staler  and  more  uninteresting  as  time  passes. 
When  a  man  begins  to  lose  his  illusions  about 
Persia  it  seems  better  for  him  to  leave  the  country 
if  he  can,  for  when  Persia  loses  its  charm  there  is 
in  truth  not  much  left.  At  present  I  can  see  little 
in  the  place  but  an  arid  sun-baked  wilderness, — a 
country  which  is  rapidly  reaching  the  last  stage 
in  the  independent  history  of  backward  states — 
a-spiritless,  vain,  ignorant,  uncivilised,  and  foolish 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  115 

people  with  no  cohesion  and  no  ambition  for 
anything  but  momentary  personal  gain.  Perhaps, 
you  will  say,  that  mood  is  in  itself  only  another 
illusion  and  will  pass.  And  you  may  perhaps 
add  that  we  should  keep  our  eyes  on  the  bright 
side  of  things  these  days.  Well,  let 's  be  merry, 
or  if  we  can't  be  merry  let  us  at  least  be  cynical, 
which  I  suppose  is  better  than  grumbling.  I  will 
tell  you  what  happened  last  night  at  the  governor's 
dinner  on  the  anniversary  of  the  Shah's  corona- 
tion—the grandest  and  most  solemn  function  of 
the  Persian  year. 

The  Hisam  ud  Douleh,  unlike  his  predecessors, 
lives  in  town.  His  residence  is  built  on  the  usual 
lines  of  house  construction  here,  consisting  of  a 
square  brick-paved  compound  with  rooms  on 
every  side  and  a  small  shallow  tank  in  the  middle. 
On  one  side  is  a  paved  verandah,  behind  which  is 
what  is  intended  for  the  main  reception  room. 
Our  invitations  were  for  an  hour  after  sunset,  to 
partake  of  '  sherbet  and  sweetmeats  and  dinner.' 

At  half-past  eight,  therefore,  Captain and  I 

arrived  on  foot  attended  by  half  a  dozen  men. 
The  local  military  band  was  stationed  inside  the 
entrance-court,  and  struck  up  the  British  National 
Anthem  as  we  came  in.  The  bandmaster  is 
struggling  under  difficulties  at  present,  as  all  his 
best  instruments  belonged  to  the  Shoukat  ul  Mulk, 
and  were  taken  from  him  and  locked  up  by  the 
latter  before  his  departure.     From  the  entrance- 


116  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

court  we  went  along  a  passage  lined  with  soldiers, 
who  presented  arms  vigorously.  Inside  we  found 
the  compound  full  of  servants.  We  were  ushered 
into  a  sitting-room  opposite  the  big  verandah,  and 
there  we  shook  hands  at  the  door  with  the  agent 
for  foreign  affairs,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  room 
with  the  governor  himself.  The  room  was  w^U 
set  out  with  European  drawing-room  furniture, 
and  in  the  centre  was  a  brilliant  acetylene  lamp 
which  fizzed  and  glared  and  added  consider- 
ably to  the  already  oppressive  heat.  The  other 
guests  were  already  there  for  the  most  part.  The 
telegraph-master,  an  old  grey-haired  man  with 
glasses,  had  a  cross-band  over  his  breast  signify- 
ing his  rank  as  a  colonel.  The  postmaster  had 
a  gilt  badge  on  his  hat.  The  Russian  military 
doctor  was  there  in  uniform,  with  two  Russian 
telegraphists  in  serge  frock-coats,  one  of  these 
telegraphists  being  a  sturdy  old  greybeard  with 
several  service  medals.  The  Persian  commanders 
of  cavalry  and  artillery  were  also  in  uniform. 
The  governor  was  dressed  in  a  dark-blue  uniform 
of  sorts,  with  a  jewelled  belt  and  a  cross-band, 
and  with  several  Persian  orders  on  his  breast. 
The  karguzar  (the  agent  for  foreign  affairs)  was 
dressed  in  a  black  frock-coat  and  wore  a  Turkish 
silver  medal.  This  medal  attracted  notice  at  a 
similar  function  last  year,  when  the  British  consul 
for  Seistan  and  Kain  was  in  Birjand  for  the  sum- 
mer.    The  karguzar  was  laughingly  quizzed  for 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  117 

wearing  a  Turkish  medal  in  the  presence  of  the 
representatives  of  powers  at  war  with  Turkey. 
He  rephed  promptly  :  '  It  is  very  easy  to  remedy 
the  matter.  The  consul  has  only  to  get  me  a 
British  order  to  place  alongside  it.' 

We  were  offered  whisky-sodas,  rather  to  our 
surprise,  as  Birjand  is  at  present  suffering  from 
one  of  its  periodical  famines  in  this  classic  British 
drink.  We  learned  afterwards  that  the  governor 
had  with  great  difficulty  succeeded  in  finding  one 
bottle.  Where  he  got  it  or  what  it  cost  him  I 
have  not  heard.  Shortly  afterwards  our  host,  who 
is  stout  and  thick-set  and  was  suffering  from  the 
heat  more  than  any  of  us,  suggested  a  move  to  the 
open  air,  and  we  all  went  into  the  compound. 

The  scene  there  was  as  brilliant  as  the  re- 
sources of  the  town  could  make  it.  The  whole 
area  was  floored  with  carpets,  and  the  four  walls, 
twenty  feet  high  all  round,  were  covered  with 
carpets  totalling  thousands  of  pounds  in  value. 
In  the  centre  of  the  draped  verandah  facing  us  was 
a  galaxy  of  about  a  hundred  oil  lamps  arranged  in 
tiers.  This  illumination  was  flanked  on  the  raised 
verandah  by  two  gramophones,  while  the  band 
had  taken  up  its  position  in  a  corner  of  the  com- 
pound. Persian  cavalrymen,  with  drawn  swords, 
stood  at  attention  in  an  outer  ring  round  the  com- 
pound, forming  a  guard  of  honour.  In  the  middle, 
some  distance  from  the  tank,  was  a  long  table 
prepared  for  dinner,  with  bent- wood  chairs  placed 


118  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

around.  Near  this  were  three  small  tables  with 
various  kinds  of  hors  d'oeuvres,  to  be  eaten 
standing  before  dinner,  in  the  Russian  fashion. 
On  the  edge  of  the  flat  roof  overhead  was  an  all- 
round  line  of  figures  in  dim  light — mostly  white- 
robed  women,  spectators  of  the  scene  below.  We 
walked,  and  stood,  and  talked,  like  people  at  a 
garden-party.  One  of  the  gramophones  set  up  an 
English  musical  comedy  song,  and  immediately 
afterwards  the  other,  not  to  be  outdone,  com- 
menced a  Persian  air.  The  two  went  at  it  gaily, 
and  I  remarked  to  the  governor  that  England  and 
Persia  appeared  to  be  at  war.  '  Such  a  thing,' 
he  replied  piously,  '  will  never  happen,  insha'llah.' 
I  asked  Captain what  he  thought  of  it  all. 

'  It  reminds  me,'  said  he,  '  of  those  places  at 
home  where  you  pay  tuppence  to  get  in  and  tup- 
pence more  for  every  side-show.' 

The  gramophones  stopped,  and  the  band  at 
once  commenced.  The  agent  for  foreign  affairs 
sidled  up  with  the  air  of  a  conspirator  and  drew 
one  of  us  aside  to  discuss  the  order  of  toasts. 
Shortly  afterwards  we  found  ourselves  consuming 
pate  de  foie  gras,  lax,  and  other  things  at  the 
little  tables,  and  when  this  was  over  we  sat  down 
sixteen  to  dinner,  in  the  places  assigned  to  us  by 
name-cards  written  in  Persian.  On  my  left  I 
found  the  Indian  sub-assistant  surgeon  who  has 
run  our  consulate  dispensary  here  for  many  years. 
Next  him  was  the  local  Persian  doctor,  and  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  119 

two  at  once  commenced  a  lively  discussion  about 
disease.  The  Persian  was  promptly  warned. 
'  Si  vous  parlez  de  malades  il  faut  vous  s^parer.* 
'  Whom  are  they  arranging  to  kill  next  ?  '  asked 
the  governor.  Course  followed  course,  till  the 
Shah's  health  was  proposed  by  the  British  and 
drunk  with  cheers  d  Vanglaise,  the  band  playing 
the  Persian  National  Anthem.  A  few  minutes  later 
the  agent  for  foreign  affairs,  who  sat  opposite  the 
governor,  rose  and  proposed  our  King-Emperor. 
The  band  played  our  National  Anthem,  and  while 
we  remained  standing  the  governor  turned  to  his 
neighbour  and  gravely  repeated  the  toast.  I  was 
a  little  surprised,  but  when  we  sat  down  he  ex- 
plained. '  The  karguzar,'  he  said,  in  a  voice  that 
no  one  else  could  hear, '  was  rather  hasty.  It  was 
my  business  to  propose  the  health  of  the  King  of 
England.  He  had  no  right  to  do  it.  He  ought 
to  be  fined.'  After  an  interval  the  Russian  vice- 
consul's  interpreter  rose  and  proposed  the  health 
of  the  Shah  again,  on  behalf  of  his  chief,  who  un- 
fortunately had  been  prevented  from  coming. 
This  time  the  band,  under  a  misapprehension, 
played  the  Russian  National  Anthem  instead  of 
the  Persian — a  bad  omen  for  Persia  !  The  band- 
master apparently  discovered  his  mistake,  for  he 
sent  me  a  message  asking  what  he  was  to  play  for 
the  next  toast.  I  told  him  he  had  given  us  the 
wrong  tune,  but  as  the  Russian  National  Anthem 
would  be  the  correct  one  next  he  had  better 


120  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

repeat  it.  The  governor  overheard  the  reply, 
and  remarked,  sotto  voce :  '  I  know  what  it  is. 
He  has  been  drinking  wine.  He  will  have  to 
be  fined.'  I  tried  to  assuage  his  wrath,  and  I 
sincerely  hope  that  the  bandmaster  was  not  made 
to  contribute  to  the  cost  of  the  dinner,  as  his  pay 
doesn't  leave  much  margin  for  fining.  The  agent 
for  foreign  affairs  now  rose  and  responded  again 
by  proposing  the  health  of  the  Czar.     About  this 

stage  Captain  noticed  one  of  our  servants, 

who  had  been  requisitioned  to  wait  at  table, 
mixing  some  gin  into  a  bottle  of  champagne  he 
had  just  opened.  The  rogue  then  filled  up  the 
glasses  of  the  more  convivial  guests  with  the 
mixture,  no  doubt  with  a  desire  to  enliven  the 
entertainment.  He  prudently  avoided  ourselves, 
and  the  victims  of  his  mischief  didn't  appear  to 
notice  anything  unusual  in  their  glasses. 

Dinner  was  now  over,  and  the  band  was  play- 
ing a  merry  dance  tune.  The  old  Russian  tele- 
graphist with  the  medals,  who  is  a  Caucasian  and 
has  several  sons  in  the  war,  began  to  hum  and  beat 
the  air  to  the  music,  which  reminded  him  of  his 
native  dances.  We  induced  him  to  take  the 
floor,  and  up  he  got  and  off  he  went  at  a  brisk  jig, 
while  we  all  left  the  table  and  gathered  round. 
We  hadn't  watched  him  long  before  some  others 
started.  The  band  was  brought  alongside  and 
struggled  manfully  with  the  situation.  When 
they  were  tired  the  Russian  Cossack  escort  of 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  121 

about  ten  men  were  brought  forward,  formed  a 
ring,  and  sang  their  kisty  songs  and  danced  their 
inimitable  gymnastic  dances.  The  only  Persian 
who  dared  to  rise  to  the  occasion  and  to  forsake 
convention  and  formality  so  far  as  to  dance,  was 
the  dear,  sedate,  and  circumspect  old  karguzar, 
who  is  normally  the  acme  of  dignity  and  decorum. 
He  whirled  and  twisted  with  the  best,  and  the 
applause  increased  when  he  was  given  a  couple 
of  lighted  candlesticks,  with  which  he  performed 
graceful  and  intricate  evolutions  in  the  best 
traditional  style.  At  this  point  some  one  drew 
the  attention  of  our  host  to  the  fact  that  the 
telegraph-master  was  missing.  Inquiries  were 
made,  and  it  was  discovered  that  the  old  man 
had  discreetly  fled  to  his  home.  '  He  has  done 
wrong,'  said  the  governor  in  an  aside,  '  he  must 
be  fined.'  Another  victim  !  It  reminded  me  of 
the  terrible  queen  in  Alice  in  Wonderland. 

We  finished  up  the  evening  with  a  Persian 
hymn  sung  in  the  European  manner  by  the 
members  of  the  band,  many  of  whom  were  boys 
of  fourteen  and  upwards.  The  poor  fellows  were 
pale  and  tired-looking,  and  it  would  have  been 
pleasanter  to  see  them  having  a  hearty  meal. 
They  got  their  reward  eventually  i.o  doubt,  but 
it  was  past  one  o'clock  when  we  left,  after  shaking 
hands  with  our  smiling  host,  and  with  the  kar- 
guzar, who  was  by  this  time  once  more  a  figure  of 
unimpeachable  officialdom. 


122  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

BiRjAND,  I5th  July  ldl6. 

Dear  M.,— I  spent  last  week-end  at  Aliabad,  a 
deserted  village  of  the  plains,  fifteen  miles  away  to 
the  east.  The  immediate  object  of  my  visit  was 
exercise  and  a  change  of  surroundings,  and  the 
pretext  was  provided  by  the  gazelle  that  frequent 
the  district.  The  plain  is  about  twelve  miles  long 
and  five  miles  broad,  and  is  bare  except  for  a  few 
hamlets,  a  ruined  fort  or  two,  and  some  flocks  of 
goats  and  sheep  that  pasture  on  its  scanty  growth. 
On  Sunday  morning  I  picked  up  a  couple  of  gazelle 
over  a  mile  distant,  but  they  were  too  wary  to 
wait  for  me.  On  Monday  morning,  as  I  was  rid- 
ing home,  we  sighted  seven  of  them  a  mile  and  a 
half  ahead,  so  I  left  the  horses  to  continue  slowly 
along  the  road,  and  went  off  with  a  deer-driver  to 
make  a  circuit.  The  sight  of  the  horses,  however, 
put  the  herd  on  their  guard,  and  they  capered  off 
while  we  were  still  a  mile  away.  The  deer-driver 
went  off  in  a  hopeless  attempt  to  head  them  round, 
and  for  an  hour  and  a  half  I  watched  them  from 
behind  low  scrub  while  he  endeavoured  to  get 
behind  them.  Eventually  they  all  disappeared, 
and  I  didn't  much  regret  their  escape,  as  I  had  had 
my  glass  most  of  the  time  on  a  couple  of  kids 
playing  rouni  their  mother  at  the  tail  end  of  the 
herd.  The  temperature  at  midday  was  only  about 
92°  in  the  shade,  but  the  whole  plain  was  covered 
with  dancing  heat  waves  which  reminded  me  of 
the  South  African  karoo. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  123 

The  village  of  Aliabad  is  an  exaggerated  ex- 
ample of  the  drying  up  of  Persia.  In  former 
times  it  was  a  residence  of  the  governor,  and  Mir 
Alam  Khan,  the  father  of  the  present  Amir 
Shoukat  ul  Mulk,  kept  his  state  there  in  days 
when  the  Kainat  was  an  almost  unknown  dis- 
trict inhabited  by  very  simple  folk.  Now  the 
village  supports  only  a  dozen  peasants.  The  big 
orchard-garden  still  contains  a  number  of  parched 
trees  and  a  carpeting  of  starved  vegetation.  The 
great  octagonal  building  which  overlooks  it  is 
sadly  in  need  of  repair,  but  is  still  habitable, 
though  the  padlock  on  its  solid  door  is  only  with- 
drawn for  a  very  rare  visitor.  The  broad  lattice 
windows  of  the  upper  rooms  (which  have  never 
known  glass)  are  broken  by  the  wind,  and  the 
ceiling  boards  are  gaping  in  places.  In  one  room 
is  a  trap-door,  beneath  which  were  laid  the  bags 
of  silver  and  gold  that  formed  the  Amir's  treasure. 
Leading  from  another  is  the  Amir's  private  place 
of  prayer,  a  tiny  mosque  or  chapel  for  daily 
devotions.  The  outhouses  that  skirt  the  garden 
contain  a  jumble  of  antique  furnishings,  among 
which  lie  the  costumes  and  armour  used  in  the 
passion-plays  that  were  performed  there  in  the 
month  of  Muharram. 

The  custodian  of  these  ruins  is  an  old  retainer 
with  a  harsh  voice  and  an  air  of  greed  and  cunning. 
On  the  night  of  my  arrival  he  promised  to  send 
for  two  shikaris  who  lived  alone  six  miles  away. 


124  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Next  morning  before  dawn,  when  I  asked  if  the 
shikaris  had  come,  the  boy  who  was  supposed  to 
have  gone  for  them  appeared  and  said  that  neither 
of  them  had  been  at  home.  '  He  Hes,'  said  I, '  he 
has  not  been  to  their  home  at  all.'  The  old  man 
went  off  protesting,  and  told  my  servant  a  story 
which  he  considered  to  the  point.  '  When  I  was 
here  in  the  service  of  Mir  Alam  Khan,'  he  said, 
'  he  sent  me  one  day  to  the  surrounding  villages 
to  buy  twenty  fowls,  and  he  gave  me  forty  krans. 
At  the  end  of  the  day  I  returned  with  only  three 
fowls,  and  said :  "I  have  been  everywhere,  but 
could  find  only  these  three."  The  Amir  became 
very  angry,  and  said  :  "  He  lies ;  he  has  not  left 
the  village.  Let  him  have  ten  (strokes  of  a  whip) 
on  the  face."  I  was  beaten,  and  some  days  after- 
wards he  again  gave  me  forty  krans  and  sent 
me  to  buy  twenty  fowls.  At  the  end  of  the  day 
I  returned  to  him  with  forty  fowls  which  I  had 
bought  for  twenty  krans.  He  was  satisfied  with 
me  then,  and  gave  me  five  krans  as  a  present.' 

The  little  village  continued  to  thrive  until  a 
few  years  ago,  when  the  water  -  supply  became 
gradually  less.  Among  the  numerous  bequests 
of  Mir  Alam  Khan  a  part  of  the  property  had  been 
set  aside  for  the  expense  of  religious  festivals 
for  the  benefit  of  the  villagers  of  the  immediate 
district.  These  festivals  and  prayer  meetings 
were  discontinued  latterly  by  the  late  Amir 
Hisam  ud  Douleh,  who  replaced  them  by  similar 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  125 

assemblies  in  Birjand.  Other  charitable  charges, 
it  is  said,  were  neglected  as  time  went  on.  The 
simple  story  of  the  Aliabad  villagers  is  that  one 
day  a  dervish  demanded  the  customary  alms  and 
was  refused.  '  By  the  soul  of  the  dead  Amir,' 
he  cried,  '  the  prosperity  of  this  place  is  at  an  end. 
If  the  water  of  Aliabad  be  not  dry  in  three  years 
from  now,  I  have  no  faith  in  Ali ! '  The  curse  took 
effect,  and  within  the  stated  time  the  one  under- 
ground channel  which  supplied  Aliabad  with  its 
former  abundance  of  irrigation  water  had  dried  up. 

I  mentioned  this  story  last  night  to  a  well- 
informed  Persian.  He  told  me  that  the  main 
water-supply  of  Aliabad  had  formerly  been  as 
plentiful  as  the  present  supply  of  Birjand.  He 
ascribed  the  failure  to  the  comparative  drought 
of  recent  years,  and  gave  the  opinion  that  the 
same  supply  might  still  be  got  by  digging  lower 
at  the  top  well,  which  would  mean  making  a  new 
channel  altogether.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the 
rains  this  year  were  extraordinarily  good,  so  the 
drying  up  remains  a  mystery. 

The  plain  around  most  towns  of  Persia  is  pock- 
marked in  long  diverging  lines  with  the  well-heads 
of  underground  watercourses.  It  would  be  inter- 
esting to  know  the  history  of  their  use,  which  has 
probably  continued  on  much  the  same  lines  for 
thousands  of  years.  The  system  appears  to  be 
used  in  very  few  countries,  so  you  may  like  to  hear 
some  details  about  it  as  it  is  practised  in  this  dis- 


126  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

trict.  The  work  is  very  simple,  as  no  metal  or 
machinery  is  used  owing  to  the  dijfificulty  of  trans- 
port and  the  lack  of  engineering  facilities.  The 
labour  is  consequently  greater,  and  the  trouble 
and  expense  of  providing  the  average  small  town 
in  a  dry  district  with  its  water-supply  should  im- 
press the  European  who  curls  his  lip  at  the  apathy 
and  incompetence  of  the  lazy  feckless  Persian. 

The  instruments  used  are  few  and  inexpensive. 
The  most  complicated  is  the  water- finder,  of  which 
only  a  few  Persians  have  the  secret.  This  water- 
finder,  which  I  am  told  has  a  diamond  and  a 
magnet  as  parts  of  its  construction,  is  kept  in  the 
hands  of  the  master-builders  of  watercourses.  It 
is  said  to  show  the  presence  and  depth  of  water 
at  anything  down  to  several  hundred  yards  below 
the  surface,  and  to  indicate  the  quantity  available. 
Experience  tells  its  o^vner  where  to  search  the 
valley,  and  observation  with  the  mysterious  in- 
strument does  the  rest.  The  greatest  depth  at 
the  source,  in  the  longest  channels  in  use  in  the 
Kain  district,  is  250  yards.  The  least  depth  is 
fifteen  feet,  in  the  shortest  channels  built  in  the 
hills.  When  the  master-builder  has  found  a 
supply  and  estimated  its  depth,  he  next  calculates 
to  what  distance  in  the  required  direction  he 
must  lead  it  till  it  comes  to  the  surface.  For  this 
he  uses  an  ordinary  spirit-level  of  six  to  fourteen 
inches  in  length,  with  a  measuring  -  pole  held 
upright  a  hundred  yards  away.     The  readings 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  127 

are  recorded  and  worked  out  on  paper,  with  the 
depth  of  the  water  at  the  source  and  the  inch'ne 
or  gradient  of  two  to  six  inches  in  every  hundred 
yards,  as  factors  in  an  arithmetical  calculation. 
The  length  of  the  channel  will  thus  depend  on  the 
depth  at  which  water  is  tapped  and  the  downward 
slope  of  the  plain  or  valley  through  which  it  has 
to  be  carried.  The  longest  course  in  Kain  runs 
to  as  much  as  fifteen  miles,  the  shortest  is  about 
a  hundred  yards,  and  the  average  is  four  to  eight 
miles  in  length. 

The  master-builder  makes  his  report  and  gives 
his  employer  an  idea  of  the  probable  cost.  If 
the  landowner  who  has  engaged  him  decides 
favourably,  an  advance  of  money  is  given  and  the 
work  is  commenced.  The  direction  above  and 
below  surface  is  obtained  by  an  ordinary  pocket 
compass,  which  is  marked  with  a  cross-thread, 
pointing  as  required,  for  use  in  tunnelling.  The 
only  tools  used  are  picks  and  shovels  and  buckets, 
with  a  simple  windlass  at  the  well-heads.  The 
top  well  is  sunk  first,  and  thereafter  the  line  is 
followed  by  simultaneous  tunnelling  and  well- 
sinking  so  contrived  that  the  well-sinker  and  the 
tunneller  meet  at  the  bottom  and  can  hear  each 
other  as  they  approach  a  junction.  From  the 
top  well,  also,  two  or  three  short  courses  may  be 
taken  higher  up  at  oblique  angles  as  feeders. 
The  distance  from  well  to  well  is  normally  equal 
to    the    depth    of    the    wells    themselves.     The 


128  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

diameter  of  a  deep  well  should  be  twenty-five 
inches,  and  of  a  shallow  one  twenty  inches.  The 
circumference  at  top  and  bottom  is  equal.  In 
the  case  of  the  top  wells  a  piece  of  piping  projects 
from  the  well-head  to  assist  ventilation  during 
construction  below.  Near  the  well-head  the '  wall ' 
is  strengthened  if  necessary  by  stones.  The  well- 
heads are  generally  covered  up  on  completion, 
about  one  in  ten  being  left  open  to  allow  the  escape 
of  moist  air  and  prevent  damage.  The  tunnelled 
course  should  be  twenty  to  twenty-five  inches  broad 
and  forty  to  forty-five  inches  high,  from  start  to 
finish.  Generally  speaking,  an  upflow  is  imprac- 
ticable as  the  lower  levels  preceding  it  would  fill 
with  water  and  could  not  be  entered  for  repairs  : 
but  in  passing  a  depression  such  as  a  ravine  the 
water  is  borne  below  through  a  course  lined  with 
burnt  half-bricks  and  lime,  which  carries  it  along 
and  up  again  to  its  normal  channel  beyond. 
This  brickwork  is  soaked  with  standing  water  for 
ten  days  after  construction,  and  then  lasts  '  for 
ever,'  whereas  iron  would  require  renewal. 

The  labourers  employed  work  from  two  hours 
after  sunrise  till  an  hour  or  an  hour  and  a  half 
before  sunset,  with  an  interval  of  half  an  hour  for 
their  midday  meal.  Their  wages  are  eightpence 
a  day.  In  other  places  such  as  Teheran  the  work 
is  continued  night  and  day  when  necessary. 
Danger  to  life  depends  largely  on  the  skill  and 
care  of  the  foreman.     I  understand  that  no  lives 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  129 

have  been  lost  in  this  district  in  the  last  few 
years. 

The  time  required  to  complete  a  hundred  yards 
in  ordinary  soil,  including  both  well  and  channel, 
is  from  three  to  five  months.  The  time  for  a 
whole  qanat  depends  on  the  number  of  windlasses 
used.  Gravelly  soil  is  better  for  tunnelling,  as 
soft  soil  requires  a  certain  amount  of  strengthen- 
ing with  brick.  A  qanat  of  eight  miles  in  length 
will  ordinarily  require  about  twenty  pounds 
annually  for  repairs. 

Clay  soil,  it  is  said,  gives  warm  water,  and  gravel 
gives  cool  water.  The  wastage  in  very  gravelly 
soil  is  said  to  be  one-third  of  the  flow  over  a  course 
of  four  miles.  This  can  be  reduced  to  one-fourth 
by  layering  the  floor  of  the  channel  with  earth. 
The  slower  the  flow  in  a  qanat  the  more  brackish 
the  water  will  be.  A  gravel  course  gives  water 
of  a  better  quality,  and  even  reduces  original 
brackishness.  In  gravel  soil  the  radius  of  water 
drainage  or  attraction  at  the  top  wells  is 
reckoned  as  about  eighteen  hundred  yards.  No 
one  else  has  a  right  to  build  within  this  catch- 
ment area.  A  qanat  may  be  carried  below 
another  man's  land,  and  if  the  owner  of  the  land 
allows  a  well  to  be  sunk  on  it,  then  the  owner  of 
the  qanat  becomes  the  owner  of  the  well-head 
surface  to  the  extent  of  four  yards  radius  in  the 
country,  or  two  and  a  half  yards  in  town. 


180  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

BiRJAND,  23rd  August  1916. 

Dear  M.,— Captain  went  up  to  Sihdeh  a 

fortnight  ago  with  a  hundred  Bakich  mounted 
levies,  and  after  a  few  days  we  got  the  pleasing 
news  that  he  had  captured  a  real  live  German. 
The  prisoner  was  brought  here  in  due  course,  and 
after  some  days  in  Birjand,  was  sent  down  to 
Seistan  en  route  for  India.  He  is  one  of  the  bold 
adventurers  who  found  their  way  across  Persia 
to  Herat  and  down  to  Kabul  last  autumn.  These 
breeders  of  enmity  haven't  had  a  very  successful 
time  in  Afghanistan,  and  are  now  trying  to  make 
their  way  home  again.  The  captured  man  was 
dressed  as  an  Afghan  even  to  his  boots,  which 
must  have  weighed  about  ten  pounds.  He  was 
lodged  at  the  vice-consulate,  and  his  treatment 
surprised  and  amused  some  of  the  simple  Bir- 
jandis,  who  apparently  expected  him  to  be  flung 
in  a  cell  and  tortured,  or  led  round  the  town  in 
triumph.  '  How  is  your  honoured  guest  ?  '  they 
asked  ironically.  '  Has  he  been  to  call  on  any 
one  yet  ? '  The  man  of  the  moment  (otherwise 
known  as  Ewe  Lamb  No.  2)  smoked  innumerable 
cigarettes,  and  asked  if  he  might  have  some  French 
books  in  place  of  the  gelignite  and  other  playthings 

which   had   been  taken    from   him.     Major 

called  on  me  to  supply  the  literature,  and  I  sent 
him  what  I  could  find,  after  getting  the  books 
dusted.     There  were  five  of  them,  as  follows : — 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  131 

La  Langue  de  VAvesta. 

U Esprit  des  Lois. 

Balladen  und  Romanzen. 

Deutsche  Lyrik. 

Handbuch  der  Regionalen  Geologie  (Persicn). 

One  of  them  I  had  never  even  looked  at.  Poor 
German  prisoner  !     The  servant  who  brought  me 

Major  's  verbal  request  didn't  like  the  look 

of  the  books,  and  his  roving  eye  lighted  up  with 
approval  at  the  sight  of  a  few  London  pictorial 
weeklies  on  a  side-table  in  my  sitting-room.  '  It 
is  well  that  you  send  those,  sahib,'  said  he  ;  *  they 
are  full  of  amusing  pictures.'  '  Abdul  Husein,' 
said  I,  '  you  are  lacking  in  discernment.  There 
are  certain  flippancies  in  those  periodicals  which 
might  not  appeal  to  the  good  taste  of  a  German 
prisoner  in  war-time.'  '  It  is  true,'  he  assented, 
with  a  knowing  smile.  I  recalled  (and  no  doubt 
so  did  he)  an  incident  of  a  week  before  when  I  had 
given  him  an  old  copy  of  the  Sketch.  It  was  open 
at  a  full-page  caricature  of  two  grotesque  British 
Tommies,  with  cigarettes  and  concertina  trousers. 
Abdul  Husein,  who  cannot  read,  jumped  to  the 
obvious  conclusion  as  he  studied  the  picture. 
'  Bah,  bah  !  '  said  he,  '  look  at  these  Germans  ! 
From  what  a  man  hears  about  them  they  might 
be  something.  But  when  once  you  see  their 
photographs  .'...' 

This  afternoon  at  lunch  I  asked  my  man  what 


132  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

news  he  had.  He  answered  that  he  had  heard 
that  there  were  large  numbers  of  Germans  at 
Yezd  and  Kerman,  and  that  a  Turkish  army  had 
entered  Teheran.  The  truth  as  regards  all  three 
towns  is  very  much  the  reverse,  but  he  wasn't  to 
be  blamed  for  not  knowing  it.  We  ourselves 
have  had  very  conflicting  reports  in  the  last  week 
as  to  the  situation  at  the  capital.  Nearly  two 
months  ago  the  Turks  commenced  an  advance 
into  Persia  on  a  serious  scale.  The  little  old 
Russian  telegraphist  told  me  one  day  that  the 
great  Mackensen  was  advancing  on  the  Kerman- 
shah  road  with  two  army  corps  of  Germans.  The 
second  evacuation  of  Kermanshah  by  the  Russians 
was  reported  officially,  and  for  some  time  the 
troops  faced  each  other  at  Bisitun  on  the  way  to 
Hamadan.  About  the  8th  of  this  month  our 
friends  left  Hamadan,  and  from  the  reports  we 
had  during  the  next  week  it  looked  as  if  the  Turks 
were  advancing  by  rapid  marches  on  the  capital. 
On  the  17th  it  was  telegraphed  that  the  European 
women  and  children  were  leaving  Teheran.  On 
the  20th  we  heard  that  the  colony,  including  the 
British  and  Russian  legations,  were  about  to 
make  a  hasty  exit.  On  the  21st  we  were  semi- 
officially informed  that  the  Turks  were  nowhere 
near  the  capital,  that  the  Russians  had  no  inten- 
tion of  letting  them  get  there,  and  that  the  lega- 
tions had  not  the  least  intention  of  taking  up 
quarters  elsewhere.     The  least  interesting  report 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  138 

was,  of  course,  the  last  one,  which  for  the  moment 
put  an  unkindly  stop  to  our  engrossing  specula- 
tions on  the  immediate  future.  We  have  seen 
so  many  news-bombs  turn  into  bubbles  in  the 
past  year !  Our  morbid  minds,  however,  are  still 
inspired  with  profane  hopes  of  sensation.  '  I 
wonder,'  says  A.,  'if  there  are  really  20,000 
Germans  advancing  on  that  line  ?  If  they  take 
Teheran  they  '11  force  this  wretched  country  into 
war,  and  the  governor  here  will  get  a  nice  long 
telegram  telling  him  to  act  accordingly.  It 's  a 
situation  that 's  worth  considering.  Say  when.' 
'  The  Turks,'  says  B.,  '  will  be  cut  off  and  forced 
to  surrender  after  losing  half  their  effectives. 
Simultaneously  our  troops  will  advance  from  Kut 
and  take  Baghdad.  In  another  two  months  I 
shall  be  on  my  way  back  to  India.  Here  's  luck.' 
The  kite-flying  season  is  in  full  swing,  and  the 
little  boys  of  Birjand  are  out  every  evening. 
Their  kites  are  rectangular  in  shape  and  have  a 
framework  of  split  reeds,  covered  with  painted 
paper,  and  with  a  convex  surface  facing  the  wind. 
Across  the  concave  back  they  attach  strips  of 
paper  cut  into  teeth-like  lines  of  streamers,  and 
the  wind,  rustling  through  these,  makes  a  fair 
imitation  of  the  whirring  of  an  aeroplane. 

Birjand,  18th  October  1916. 
Dear  M., — You  will  be  interested  to  learn  that 
the  Birjand  football  season  commenced  six  weeks 


134  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

ago,  and  is  now  in  full  swing.  We  can  just 
manage  to  raise  two  elevens  at  present,  as  there 
are  barely  a  dozen  Indian  troopers  left  in  town, 
the  rest  of  the  squadron  being  out  on  patrol  duty. 
Of  these  sowars  about  six  men  are  available,  and 

Captain  makes  up  his  eleven  with  the  help 

of  the  sub-assistant  surgeon,  the  S.  and  T.  clerk, 

the  local  washerman,  and  Major 's  cook,  not 

to  mention  the  hope  of  his  side,  who  is  the  gallant 
major  himself.  My  side  includes  a  young  Sikh 
trader,  a  comb-maker,  and  a  tailor,  with  three  of 
my  own  servants  and  a  number  of  other  people's. 
My  cook  broke  his  leg  badly  at  the  game  last 
spring  and  is  still  a  cripple,  which  accounts  for 
the  shyness  of  certain  former  players  who  excuse 
themselves  this  year.  It  is  hard  work  teaching 
the  Persians  to  keep  their  proper  places  on  the 
field  and  to  co-operate  loyally,  especially  as  in 
the  ordinary  affairs  of  their  lives  they  haven't 
quite  learned  those  two  points  of  importance. 
They  make  rapid  progress,  however,  and  show 
more  intelligence  and  activity  than  the  long-legged 
Indians,  whose  brains  are  seldom  in  their  boots 
when  they  are  required  there.  The  comparison 
applies  racially,  as  is  agreed  by  many  who  know 
both  countries  well.  Given  the  same  good  govern- 
ment and  the  same  material  opportunities,  there 
seems  little  doubt  of  the  Persian  proving  the 
better  man  all  round. 

We  are  having  the  teams  photographed  by  a 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  185 

young  Persian  who  is  quite  an  expert  with  the 
camera.  Persians  are  very  iond  of  seeing  them- 
selves in  print,  and  the  rehgious  objection  is 
waived  nowadays.  Mirza  Reza,  the  photographer 
in  question,  told  me  some  time  ago  of  an  encounter 
he  had  when  he  first  took  up  the  hobby.  The 
chief  priest  heard  of  it  and  sent  for  him.  '  You 
know,'  said  the  old  man,  '  that  reproductions  of 
the  human  form  are  against  the  holy  law.  You 
must  discontinue  this  irregular  practice,  or  I  will 
denounce  you  as  an  offender.'  Mirza  Reza  stood 
his  ground  and  showed  the  old  man  some  photo- 
graphs of  noted  religious  leaders  taken  in  Teheran 
and  elsewhere.  He  apparently  demonstrated  the 
harmlessness  of  his  work,  for  after  some  discussion 
the  worthy  sheikh  gave  way  and  withdrew  his 
ban.  '  When  we  had  reached  that  point,'  said 
Mirza  Reza  to  me,  '  I  thanked  him  and  told  him 
that  I  had  a  request  to  make.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 
he  asked.  I  said:  ''You  have  seen  my  camera, 
and  you  have  kindly  allowed  me  to  go  on  taking 
photographs  of  respectable  people.  I  wish  now 
to  take  yours."  He  consented,  and  I  took  two 
good  photographs.  Here  is  a  copy  of  one  of 
them,  which  I  beg  you  to  accept.' 

The  Russian  and  Turkish  forces  still  face  each 
other  somewhere  about  Hamadan  in  the  west. 
That  district  seems  to  have  become  an  established 
front,  which  has  apparently  settled  down  to 
comparative  immobility  just  as  Mesopotamia  did 


136  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

after  the  siege  of  Kut.  We  get  very  little  news 
of  the  provinces  now,  and  so  far  as  we  know  they 
are  all  quiet.  The  last  year  has  produced  a 
momentous  development  in  Persia  in  the  direc- 
tion of  joint  supervision  by  Britain  and  Russia — 
a  gradual  insinuation  of  forces  set  in  motion  by 
political  necessity  and  carried  on  by  their  own 
natural  impetus.  The  influence  of  the  two 
powers  is  now  practically  paramount,  but  its 
exercise  is  wisely  confined  to  meeting  our  im- 
mediate needs  and  consolidating  our  interests  in 
the  light  of  the  war  in  Europe.  The  result  at  the 
moment,  as  seen  in  Birjand,  is  unfortunate  for 
the  internal  affairs  of  this  country.  The  tra- 
ditional bribery,  extortion,  and  misappropriation 
indulged  in  by  the  official  classes  (largely  because 
of  their  insecurity  of  tenure)  continue  in  a  worse 
degree  than  formerly.  The  central  authority  of 
the  Persian  government,  which  exercised  some 
sort  of  intermittent  check  on  corrupt  administra- 
tion, is  now  enfeebled  and  listless,  while  public 
opinion  is  in  a  corresponding  state.  Later  on, 
let  us  hope,  the  requisite  control  will  be  estab- 
lished on  modern  lines. 

The  Birjand  merchants,  true  to  their  class  in 
Persia,  have  shown  extraordinary  staying-power 
throughout  the  difficulties  and  hardships  of  the 
last  two  years.  The  valuable  carpet  industry  has 
collapsed  utterly,  and  the  import  trade  with  India 
has  been  at  a  standstill  owing  to  insecurity  of 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  137 

traffic  and  lack  of  transport  on  the  long  road 
through  British  Baluchistan.  In  spite  of  heavy- 
losses,  however,  these  good  people  carry  on  with 
the  hope  of  better  days  and  with  the  exercise  of 
mutual  forbearance  and  kindly  common  sense. 
Their  recuperative  powers  will  not  fail  them  when 
the  time  comes.  The  humbler  classes  of  men — 
the  artisans,  the  labourers,  the  village  peasantry 
— are  waiting  and  watching,  as  always,  with  in- 
finite patience  and  good  humour,  for  that  brighter 
prospect  which  has  been  so  often  promised  and  so 
long  veiled.  One  wishes  much  for  the  uncertain 
future  of  these  people,  and  one  wonders  what  the 
road  will  be  like  ahead— they  have  stumbled  over 
such  rough  ways  !  '  To  travel  hopefully  .  .  .  '  ? 
Yes,  but  hope  must  be  renewed  by  achievement. 
One  prays  that  their  rulers  may  be  wise— that 
their  leaders  and  administrators  may  be  well 
chosen,  combining  ability  with  rectitude,  and 
energy  with  caution  ;  for  to  walk  circumspectly 
is  better  than  to  outrun,  as  the  country's  recent 
history  shows.  The  Persian  Problem  cannot 
perhaps  be  solved,  because  it  is  a  living  thing  and 
has  many  features  which  change  with  the  times. 
Doubtless,  however, '  the  true  success  is  to  labour.' 

BiRJAND,  Uh  December  1916. 

Dear  M., — ^To-day  we  have  had  our  first  rain 
since  late  spring — a  gentle  shower  from  clouds 
that  couldn't  quite  make  up  their  minds  what  to 


138  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

do  even  after  days  of  loitering  over  our  heads. 
We  have  longed  for  rain  and  the  smell  of  damp 
earth  as  General  Townshend's  men  at  Kut  must 
have  longed  for  the  whiff  of  tobacco  when  their 
pipes  had  been  empty  for  months.  So  I  went  out 
in  the  afternoon,  climbed  a  little  hill,  and  walked 
joyously  under  grey  skies  along  the  whaleback 
ridge  east  of  the  town.  Bare  earth  everywhere, 
hardly  moistened  on  the  surface  by  a  few  hours' 
rainfall — about  as  satisfying  to  the  nostrils  as  a 
dry  old  bone  to  a  hungry  dog.  The  dog,  I  suppose, 
gets  his  pleasure  from  the  association  of  ideas, 
and  feasts  in  imagination  while  his  tongue  is  busy 
with  a  desiccated  relic :  so  I,  tramping  the 
gravelly  heights,  conjured  up  sight  and  smell  of 
dark,  fresh-turned  furrows  and  steaming,  odorous 
thickets.  Presently,  however,  a  glance  back  at 
the  crazy  little  town,  caught  in  a  new  light  and 
from  an  unusual  vantage-point,  recalled  to  my 
mind  vague  pictures  of  the  East  seen  in  early  days 
at  home.  The  veil  of  sophistication  was  removed 
for  a  moment,  and  I  had  a  bright  vision  of  that 
romantic  wondrous  East  which  is  known  only  to 
children  and  strangers.  So  might  a  domestic 
person,  solemnly  eating  a  cutlet  for  the  thousand 
and  first  time  with  his  wife  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  suddenly  look  up  at  the  poise  of  the  lady's 
arm  or  the  curve  of  her  shoulder,  and  fall  to 
thinking  of  fairy  princesses. 

Later,  as  I  looked  do\Mi  from  the  rolling  up- 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  139 

lands  across  the  southern  plain,  I  had  the  same 
sensation  of  recaptured  dreams,  though  in  this 
case  not  for  the  first  time.  The  fiat  plain,  sloping 
imperceptibly  up  to  the  dark  mountain  range 
which  loomed  along  the  whole  misty  background, 
was  relieved  in  the  nudity  of  its  dull  expanse  by 
the  presence  of  half  a  dozen  hamlets  and  home- 
steads dotted  at  wide  distances  apart  over  its 
surface.  Chief  among  these,  the  Amir's  residence 
and  garden  marked  the  centre  of  the  plain — high 
mud  walls,  bare  trees,  abrupt  structural  outlines, 
clean-cut  in  the  midst  of  nothing.  To  it  (and 
herein  lay  the  magic)  a  white  roadway  was 
tracked  straight  across  the  plain  from  the  town, 
like  a  guiding  finger.  Seen  from  where  I  stood, 
that  white,  unbroken,  undeviating  track  could  be 
nothing  but  the  royal  road  of  nursery  travel,  and 
the  palace  to  which  it  led  must  surely  be  the  home 
of  romance  and  the  goal  of  adventure.  Such,  you 
may  say,  are  the  virtues  of  two  qualities — sim- 
plicity and  distance,  the  secrets  of  nature's 
cunning  in  Persia  :  relieving  the  picture  of  all 
inessential  detail,  she  gives  point  and  conviction 
to  the  fancy,  and  then  leaves  it  undistracted  to 
its  play,  like  a  child  well  set  with  his  toys.  Hence, 
partly,  the  fact  that  Persia  has  given  us  such  fine 
stories  for  children. 

While  we  are  talking  of  children,  I  may  as  well 
give  you  the  distressing  news  about  my  sherbetdar 
('bearer  of    sherbet' — house-boy).     Hassan    has 


140  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

taken  to  the  society  of  ghouls,  who  visit  him 
every  other  night.  When  he  is  in  bed  with  the 
lamp  out  and  his  head  under  the  quilt,  he  hears 
a  pattering  and  scraping  on  the  roof.  ('  A  night- 
bird  or  a  street  dog  on  the  prowl  ?  '  '  Certainly 
not.  Quite  a  different  noise.')  Then  he  hears  a 
scratching  at  the  door.  ('  That  accursed  grey 
cat  on  its  way  to  the  kitchen  ?  '  '  No,  no !  Quite 
a  different  noise,  and  at  the  door  of  my  own  room.') 
A-a-ah  !  Then  the  ghoul  enters,  and  feels  his 
way  about  stealthily,  trying  to  find  Hassan.  Fi 
fo  fum  !  Hassan  lies  in  a  cold  sweat,  with  his 
head  under  the  quilt  and  a  great  weight  on  top 
of  him  so  that  he  is  unable  to  move.  '  And  what 
does  the  ghoul  look  like  ?  '  '  He  comes  in  the 
dark,  sahib,  and  I  have  never  seen  him.'  '  Then 
how  do  you  know  he  is  there  ?  '  '  Because  of  the 
noises.  I  can  hear  him  moving  about,  and  feel 
him  sitting  on  my  chest.  And  if  it  isn't  a  ghoul, 
why  should  I  be  unable  to  stir  head  or  foot  ?  ' 
'  Belly-slave  boy,  you  eat  too  much  roughan  at 
nights,  it  seems  !  '  '  Not  at  all,  sahib.  It 's  a 
real  ghoul,  and  I  know  what  he  's  like,  because  I 
have  heard  all  about  ghouls.  Every  one  knows 
about  them.  He  goes  away  after  a  while,  and  I 
put  my  head  out  and  find  no  sign  of  him.  But 
one  night  I  '11  catch  him  and  get  the  sad-dinar 
coin  which  they  say  he  always  has  lying  on  his 
tongue.  Whoever  gets  that  coin  becomes  rich, 
because  whenever  he  spends  it  it  always  returns 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  141 

to  his  pocket.'  '  Hassan,'  said  I,  '  to-morrow 
you  will  go  to  the  doctor,  who  will  give  you  some 
pills  to  take  every  night.  Those  pills  are  talism, 
and  their  power  is  such  that  when  you  swallow 
one  no  ghoul  can  come  near  you.  It  is  Feranghi 
magic'  Hassan  smiled  knowingly,  and  promised 
to  obey.  But  he  kept  his  own  convictions  on 
the  subject. 

When  I  was  in  Ahwaz  in  south-western  Persia, 
I  was  sitting  alone  by  the  fire  one  night  after 
dinner.  (We  burned  fires  for  a  few  weeks  in  the 
winter  at  Ahwaz.)  My  head-servant  had  gone 
home,  and  the  sherbetdar,  who  slept  on  the  pre- 
mises, came  in  as  usual  about  half-past  nine  to 
mend  the  fire.  When  he  had  done  this  he  with- 
drew to  the  doorway  and  stood  there  waiting. 
He  was  an  active  little  man  with  a  snuffle — 
aged  about  twenty  and  addicted  to  opium.  I 
looked  round.  '  Yes  ?  '  '  Sahib,  I  'm  afraid  to 
be  alone.  There  's  no  one  near  me  outside,  and 
it 's  a  dark  night,  and  the  syce  has  been  frighten- 
ing me.'  My  stableman  was  a  fellow  with  an 
enormous  head,  a  fierce  rolling  eye,  a  deep  rumb- 
ling voice,  and  a  sense  of  humour.  '  What  has  the 
syce  done  ?  '  '  He  told  me  that  last  night  when  you 
were  out  he  saw  three  jinns  sitting  where  you  are 
sitting  now.'  '  Yes  ?  '  '  They  were  ylaying  iviih 
their  heads. ^  Can  you  picture  a  trio  of  decapi- 
tated jinns  tossing  their  heads  to  each  other,  or 
playing  skittles  with  them  ?     It 's  difficult,  but 


142  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

very  fascinating.  I  considered  the  idea  for  some 
time,  and  then  scouted  the  possibihty.  '  The 
syce  has  been  fooHng  you,'  I  said.  '  Tell  him 
that  I  myself  have  discoursed  with  those  same 
jinns,  and  have  arranged  that  they  will  visit  him 
to-morrow  at  midnight.  Let  him  beware.'  The 
little  man  grinned  happily.  I  then  lectured  him 
on  the  necessity  of  overcoming  the  superstitious 
terrors  of  his  childhood,  and  tried  to  convince  him 
that  jinns  were  the  invention  of  disordered  minds. 
He  went  away  comforted,  for  the  time  being  at 
any  rate. 

The  ghoul  appears  to  be  a  harmless  creature,  a 
mere  nightmare  who  sits  on  a  man's  chest,  but  is 
not  to  be  feared  otherwise.  The  jinn  is  more 
formidable  and  may  proceed  from  annoyance  to 
actual  torture.  Thus  an  outraged  jinn  has  been 
known  to  put  a  man  head  downwards  flat  against 
a  high  wall  and  halfway  up  it,  keep  him  there  by 
invisible  means,  and  beat  him  mercilessly.  There- 
fore it  is  wise  and  prudent  to  take  precautions  on 
a  thousand  occasions.  For  instance,  when  >ou 
throw  dirty  water  in  your  compound  or  your 
garden,  be  careful  to  say  bismillah  first,  so  that  a 
possible  jinn  lurking  behind  a  bush  may  avoid  a 
splashing,  and  you  yourself  may  not  incur  his 
wrath. 

But  we  are  a  long  way  from  Christmas,  and 
when  this  letter  reaches  you  Christmas  will  be 
gone  and  forgotten,  so  enough  of  the  supernatural. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  143 

BiRJAND,  5ih  January  1917. 

Dear  M., — I  am  very  sorry  about  your  accident 
— it  isn't  cheering  to  think  of  your  being  hung  up 
in  comparative  inactivity  for  a  whole  month  or 
more,  with  all  your  faculties  about  you,  nursing 
a  wounded  arm  when  you  want  to  be  nursing 
other  people's.  You  seem  quite  happy  about  it — 
almost  aggressively  happy,  so  perhaps  it  is  only 
your  friends  who  are  distressed.  Knowing  they 
will  be,  you  really  ought  not  to  be  so  merry.  At 
any  rate,  I  insist  on  thinking  of  you  as  fretting 
and  fuming,  with  your  mind  like  a  water-beetle 
gyrating  on  a  pond,  or  like  a  ship's  propeller  racing 
above  the  waves  in  a  storm.  A  serious  illness, 
now,  would  be  another  matter.  A  man  might 
lose  a  lot  of  blood  and  grow  weak  :  his  fluid 
energy  might  become  diluted,  his  sensibilities  be 
softened  and  refined,  and  he  might  lie,  part  of  the 
time,  in  a  state  of  divine  contentment  bordering 
on  Nirvana,  till  the  fates  saw  fit  to  break  his 
inglorious  peace  by  ordering  his  recovery  and 
return  to  harness. 

Anyway,  I  hope  you  are  better,  and  as  your  last 
letter  is  dated  3rd  November  and  you  may  read 
this  any  time  between  the  end  of  February  and 
the  middle  of  April,  it  seems  probable  that  my 
pious  wish  will  have  been  granted  before  you  see 
it  expressed — which  illustrates  the  drawbacks  of 
conversational  correspondence  in  war-time  when 


144  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

letters  have  to  suffer  the  vagaries  of  foreign  travel 
and  the  contempt  of  mere  time  peculiar  to  over- 
worked censors.  Imagine  the  absurdity  of  asking 
Mrs.  Smith  over  the  telephone  if  her  cold  is  better, 
and  running  excitedly  to  the  instrument  four 
months  later  to  get  her  reply  ! 

In  your  last  letter,  on  the  other  hand,  you  ap- 
peared to  recognise  the  futility  of  being  topical 
under  such  conditions,  and  you  plunged  me  forth- 
with into  a  vortex  of  great  ideas,  the  fruits,  I 
suppose,  of  your  enforced  leisure.  You  think  the 
war  is  lasting  too  long,  and  defeating  its  own  ends. 
But  you  think,  too,  that  we  shall  all  be  good  boys 
when  it  is  over,  and  that  life  will  be  more  beautiful, 
with  the  beauty  of  the  earth  after  a  spring  storm. 
And  you  have  just  read  a  book  which  is  much 
talked  of,  wherein  you  find  your  ideas  confirmed. 
Do  you  know  you  make  me  feel  very  old  ?  I 
have  resolved  that  I  shall  read  no  more  history.  . .  . 
I  don't  know  anything  about  the  war.  It 's  too 
big  a  thing  to  follow  it  through  and  speculate  on 
its  results.  I  can  only  think  of  it  in  terms  of  a 
schoolboy  fight  or  a  faction  brawl  which  one 
watches  from  a  distance  unless  one  is  taking  a 
hand  in  it.  While  it  is  at  its  height,  who  can  say 
what  the  upshot  will  be,  or  how  the  domestic  re- 
lations and  social  philosophy  of  the  individual 
parties  will  be  affected  thereby  in  the  future  ? 

Nevertheless,   I   found    your    reflections   very 
arresting.       They   shewed,    for    one   thing,    the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  145 

present  effect  of  the  war  on  the  outlook  of  one 
individual.  I  wanted  at  once  to  sit  down  by  a 
fire  with  you  and  talk  it  over  and  out,  this  great 
matter.  I  am  simply  incapable  of  rising  to  your 
grand  conceptions  on  paper.  You  say  war  is  a 
horrible  thing  while  it  lasts,  but  excellent  in  its 
after-effects.  I  supposed  that  war  was  a  splendid 
thing  while  it  lasted,  but  might  be  very  depressing 
in  its  after-effects.  Bullying,  of  course,  is  not  in 
the  question,  though  even  the  boy  who  beats  the 
bully  must  be  a  little  depressed  when  he  realises 
that  his  own  face  is  disfigured  and  his  trousers 
are  torn.  I  suggest  that  war  and  peace,  at  their 
height,  are  both  times  of  splendour,  but  that  the 
reactions  from  either  are  depressing.  I  hasten 
to  add  that  I  think  you  are  quite  right. 

The  Persian  army,  as  represented  in  this  little 
country  town,  is  a  thing  of  sheer  delight,  a  perfect 
Home  of  Varieties.  I  sometimes  think  that  an 
absolute  government  breeds  individualism  in  a 
race  more  than  any  other.  Under  despotic  power 
the  people,  relieved  of  the  cramping  necessity  of 
ruling  themselves,  develop  idiosyncrasies  which 
you  will  not  find  in  the  members  of  a  corporate 
institution  or  the  subjects  of  a  democratic  govern- 
ment. In  these  Persian  infantrymen,  at  least, 
there  is  much  to  please  the  eye  and  feed  the  fancy. 
Their  ages,  I  find,  vary  between  twelve  and  forty- 
five  or  more,  the  boy  of  twelve  shouldering  a 
rifle   like   the   rest.     Their  uniforms   exhibit   all 

K 


146  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

degrees  of  age  and  completeness,  from  that  of  the 
newly-equipped  recruit  to  that  of  the  dejected- 
looking  person  who  has  nothing  uniform  about 
him  except  his  tunic  and  his  belt.  Their  manner 
of  saluting  is  full  of  character.  There  is  the 
enthusiast  with  an  ideal,  who  fixes  his  eyes 
ahead  of  him  as  he  sees  you  coming,  then  suddenly 
draws  up  as  he  meets  you,  jerks  his  head  towards 
your  flank  with  a  breakneck  movement,  glares  at 
you  fiercely,  and  brings  his  hand  up  smartly. 
There  is  the  ingratiating  one,  who  makes  his  head 
and  his  hand  meet  halfway,  and  smiles  on  you 
amiably.  There  is  the  contemplative  spirit,  who 
puts  his  hand  to  his  brow  as  if  he  were  thinking 
of  something.  There  is  the  conscientious  one, 
who  takes  the  side  of  the  road  on  your  approach, 
adopts  his  position  by  numbers — one,  two,  three — 
and  performs  the  serious  business  in  methodical 
fashion.  There  is  the  anti-militarist,  who  merely 
salutes  you  verbally  as  if  he  were  a  civilian ;  and 
there  is  the  man  of  sturdy  independence,  who 
doesn't  salute  you  at  all. 

There  is  also  the  aforesaid  lad  of  twelve,  who 
is  oppressed  with  the  burden  of  manhood,  and 
salutes  you  with  indescribable  dignity  and  sol- 
emnity, raising  and  lowering  his  arm  in  a  full, 
slow,  majestic  sweep.  With  imperturbable  con- 
centration on  the  job  in  hand,  he  ignores  the  jibes 
of  a  little  fellow  in  civilian  dress,  his  erstwhile 
chum,   who   mimics   him  from  a   safe   distance. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  147 

Poor  little  soldier  !  If  you  saw  him  I  am  sure 
you  would  want  to  pat  him  on  the  cheek  and  give 
him  a  penny  ;   and  I  shudder  at  the  thought. 

The  soldiers  here  receive  their  pay  from  the 
local  revenue  office,  the  recent  chief  of  which  was 
hostile  to  the  governor  and  said  he  had  no  money. 
His  statement  was  probably  true,  but  the  soldiers, 
after  waiting  in  vain  for  the  promised  settlement 
of  arrears,  demanded  satisfaction  on  his  person  and 
tracked  him  down  to  the  house  of  a  friend  of  his. 
The  friend  intervened  and  was  made  a  substitute, 
while  the  treasury  agent  escaped  by  the  roof  and 
shortly  afterwards  fled  the  town.  A  few  weeks 
ago  a  dispute  arose  between  two  army  officers  of 
high  rank.  They  met  in  the  street  and  fell  to 
dignified  abuse  which  ended  in  one  of  them  draw- 
ing his  sword  at  the  other.  Telegrams  flew  to 
the  capital  as  usual,  and  as  a  result  another 
ruffled  official  has  just  left  Birjand. 

BiRJAND,  20th  February  1917. 

Dear  M., — The  Amir  Hisam  ud  Douleh  has  been 
dismissed  from  the  governorship,  and  the  Amir 
Shoukat  ul  Mulk  has  been  reappointed  and  will 
be  here  in  a  month  or  so.  The  people  are  rather 
apathetic  about  it.  What  they  would  most  like 
is  to  see  the  rivals  made  friends.  They  are  tired 
of  this  ding-dong  business  with  governors  and 
officials,  which  encourages  maladministration  and 
hastens  the  impoverishment  of  the  country.     No 


148  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

one  has  serious  fault  to  find  with  either  of  the  two 
amirs,  both  of  whom  are  excellent  governors  when 
judged  by  Persian  standards,  though,  if  the  truth 
be  said,  neither  of  them  has  shown  much  public 
spirit  or  interest  in  the  progressive  development  of 
the  district.  The  present  state  of  Persian  politics 
hardly  conduces  to  the  fostering  of  national 
vitality.  The  tribal  chiefs  and  political  hotheads 
who  butted  in  to  the  support  of  our  enemies  have 
mostly  dropped  out  of  the  losing  game,  and  the 
British  and  Russian  representatives,  threatened, 
you  remember,  with  a  stab  in  the  back  at  a  critical 
time,  have  since  been  in  no  mood  to  repeat  their 
handsome  proposals  for  a  friendly  understanding 
which  would  have  been  creditable  to  all  concerned. 
While  the  war  continues,  the  military  interests  of 
the  Allies  are  paramount  in  their  thoughts.  The 
native  virtues  of  the  Persian  placemen  who  gain 
their  approval  are  necessarily  of  less  immediate 
importance  than  their  subservience  to  our  inter- 
ests, and  the  under-current  of  corruption  flows  on 
with  but  little  check  or  restraint. 

Here  is  a  simple  case  of  what  happens  in 
Birjand.  A  young  man,  after  leaving  school,  en- 
tered the  service  of  the  revenue  department.  He 
worked  well,  and  within  a  short  time  he  was  sent 
on  duty  to  a  district  a  few  leagues  away.  After 
a  while  he  was  recalled,  and  his  chief,  alleging 
various  shortcomings,  fined  him  a  sum  equal  to 
his  salary  for  three  months.     He  was  a  poor  lad 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  149 

and  could  not  afford  to  lose  his  position  and  his 
reputation,  so,  doing  as  others  did,  he  borrowed 
the  amount  and  paid  the  '  fine,'  which  was  simply 
private  blackmail.  He  was  then  allowed  to 
return  to  his  post,  where  he  reimbursed  himself  as 
quickly  as  possible  by  methods  he  had  formerly 
scrupled  to  adopt. 

The  opium  monopoly  is  administered  here  by  a 
branch  of  the  revenue  office,  with  results  which 
you  may  divine.  The  juice  of  the  poppy  is 
bought  by  the  revenue  people,  part  of  it  being 
exported  by  dealers.  For  local  use  in  the  common 
form  of  sMreh,  the  opium  is  put  into  cauldrons 
over  a  fire  and  burnt  till  it  is  as  black  and  hard 
as  charcoal.  The  remains  of  smoked  shireh  col- 
lected from  the  bowls  of  the  opium  pipes  in  the 
local  '  dens  '  are  then  mixed  with  this  in  the  pro- 
portion of  two  parts  burnt  opium  and  one  part 
burnt  shireh.  The  mixture  is  put  into  other 
cauldrons,  water  is  added,  and  it  is  boiled  for 
some  hours.  The  liquid  is  strained  off  several 
times,  and  on  the  final  boiling  becomes  yellow  and 
sticky  like  soft  toffee.  This  result  of  the  simple 
process  is  the  shireh,  which  is  sold  for  consump- 
tion at  the  present  price  of  two  miscals  for  one 
kran  (equivalent  to  about  one  rupee  for  an  ounce), 
conditional  on  the  return  of  the  burnt  shireh.  If 
'  returned  empties  '  are  not  arranged  for,  the  price 
is  doubled.  The  extract  has  not  the  obnoxious 
smell  of  the  ordinary  drug  when  smoked,  and  it 


150  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

is  much  more  powerful  in  its  effects.  Another 
form  of  shireh  is  prepared  in  much  the  same 
manner,  but  without  the  addition  of  burnt  shireh. 
This  pure  extract  is  the  most  potent  form  of  the 
drug. 

BiRJAND,  2nd  April  1917. 

Dear  M.,— The  Amir  Shoukat  ul  Mulk  has  come 
back  and  the  rivals  have  promised  to  be  friends, 
so  it  is  no  longer  '  a  plague  o'  both  your  houses.' 
Our  erstwhile  King  Charles  appears  to  be  turning 
into  a  cynic,  a  little  blase  and  indifferent,  dis- 
couraged perhaps,  and  more  consentant,  but  with 
his  sense  of  humour  undulled.  He  has  had  ample 
leisure  in  Teheran  to  observe  the  workings  of 
government,  and  the  result,  I  suppose,  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at. 

The  railway  from  India  is  at  last  creeping  on. 
The  Baluchistan  line,  which  runs  from  Quetta  to 
Nushki,  was  extended  during  the  winter  for  a 
further  seven  stages  to  Dalbandin,  which  is  about 
a  third  of  the  way  from  Nushki  to  Persia.  Pre- 
sumably we  may  expect  to  see  it  brought  still 
nearer  the  Persian  frontier,  to  the  benefit  of  trade 
and  intercourse  with  India.  In  the  north-east 
the  Russians  have  made  surveys  for  a  branch  line 
from  their  Transcaspian  railway  to  Meshed,  a  dis- 
tance of  under  a  hundred  miles.  Some  day,  per- 
haps, when  railways  are  becoming  an  antiquated 
form  of  locomotion,  these  two  lines   may  meet 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  151 

at  Birjand.  Meanwhile,  such  tentative  advances 
as  these,  with  the  Julfa-Tabriz  Hne  and  the  Moham- 
merah-Khurraniabad  project,  are  to  be  preferred 
to  grandiose  schemes  for  Transpersian  railways 
which  fail  to  materialise. 

This  morning,  as  I  was  out  walking  before 
breakfast,  I  passed  our  football  ground,  where  I 
saw  the  consular  levy  sowars  at  foot-drill.  It 
was  interesting  to  find  that  they  had  not  the  field 
to  themselves  as  they  usually  have,  but  were  shar- 
ing it  with  the  local  artillery  company.  It  was 
a  curious  juxtaposition — on  one  side  an  artillery 
unit  of  the  Persian  army  under  their  own  officers, 
marching  and  manoeuvring  smartly  enough :  on 
the  other  side  a  troop  of  Baluchis  and  Seistanis 
in  the  pay  of  the  British  government,  armed  with 
our  service  rifle  and  performing  evolutions  at  the 
command  of  an  Indian  N.C.O.  The  Persian 
gunners  are  much  superior  in  appearance  and 
efficiency  to  their  humble  brothers  of  the  regular 
Persian  infantry,  being  better  equipped  and 
better  paid  than  the  mere  sarhdz.  Their  com- 
missioned officers,  like  those  of  the  infantry  and 
the  cavalry,  are  trained  in  Teheran.  The  men 
themselves  are  a  mixed  draft  from  the  local 
population,  some  of  them  petty  shopkeepers 
torn  by  force  from  a  thriving  business.  Their 
term  of  service  is  nominally  three  years. 

The  consular  levies  are  recruited  from  the  tribes- 
men, stock-raisers,  and  cultivators  of  the  Seistan 


152  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

and  frontier  districts.  They  have  not  been 
assigned  full  uniform  as  yet,  but  being  well  paid 
and  well  officered  they  have  already  imbibed  the 
company  spirit,  and  have  contrived  a  certain 
uniformity  in  their  native  dress,  assisted  by  the 
indispensable  puttee.  Some  of  them  are  hand- 
some fellows,  soft-featured,  dark-hued,  curly- 
haired,  supple  of  limb.  They  are  a  promising, 
workmanlike  lot,  with  a  pride  of  arms  and  a 
responsive  manner  very  different  from  that  of 
the  Persian  regular.  Their  scraggy,  sinewy  little 
ponies  are  provided  by  themselves,  and  are  well 
broken  to  work.  The  force  numbers  a  hundred 
men,  and  is  principally  engaged  on  patrol  and 
outpost  duty  towards  the  Afghan  frontier. 

The  British  officer  commanding  these  mounted 
levies  (he  was  fighting  in  Flanders  a  year  ago) 
wasn't  enthusiastic  over  his  material  when  he 
first  handled  it.  He  compared  these  southerners 
dolefully  with  the  men  of  the  Hazara  foot  levies 
also  to  be  seen  in  this  district.  These  Hazaras 
were  recruited  by  our  consulate  in  Meshed,  where 
they  are  known  as  Berberis.  Many  of  them  were 
old  soldiers  of  the  Indian  army,  and  they  had  all 
been  in  training  for  some  time.  They  are  Central 
Asian  in  type  and  origin,  exiled  from  Afghanistan ; 
but  to  say  they  resemble  Chinese  would  be  in- 
adequate and  unfair,  for  some  of  them  resemble 
nothing  on  earth,  and  no  two  men  are  alike.  A 
chosen  squad  of  them,  displayed  to  the  audience 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  153 

at  a  London  music-hall,  would  have  little  to  do 
but  smile  for  their  salaries.  The  officer  com- 
manding the  Seistani  levies  eyed  these  Hazaras, 
and  wondered  at  their  sturdy  thick-set  figures, 
the  enormous  skulls  of  some,  the  narrow  glistening 
eyes  and  wrinkled  faces  of  all :  he  noted  their 
smartness  on  parade  despite  their  lack  of  uniform, 
and  he  smiled  appreciatively  at  little  touches  of 
swagger  and  gaiety  in  their  bearing  and  dress 
when  off  duty.  Then  he  turned  regretfully  to 
his  own  men,  the  soft  sensuous  untutored  men  of 
the  hot  plains  and  the  naked  hills.  He  was  soon 
content  however,  for  he  found  them  take  shape 
under  the  moulding  of  the  Indian  N.C.O.'s,  and 
discovered  that  they  had  an  eye  for  a  target,  a 
caressing  affection  for  a  rifle,  and  the  tribal  sense 
of  loyalty  to  good  leadership.  The  CO.  is  doing 
creative  work,  and  rather  likes  it. 

The  Hazara  levies  in  Birjand  are  only  a  small 
guard  party.  Their  headquarters  are  a  few 
stages  to  the  south  at  Neh,  where  a  part  of  the 
levy  force  is  recruited  from  yet  another  tribe— 
the  Bahlui.  The  Bahluis  are  tent-dwellers  of 
pure  Persian  descent,  breeders  of  sheep,  stout 
fellows  who  think  nothing  of  fifty  miles  for  a  day's 
march. 

Apart  from  these  levies  we  still  have  about  fifty 
men  of  an  Indian  cavalry  regiment  stationed  at 
Birjand  and  a  stage  or  two  north.  The  Russian 
vice-consul  has  an  escort  of  a  few  Cossacks,  and 


154  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

the  Russian  dispensary  has  a  guard  of  five  men 
of  a  Siberian  regiment.  You  will  observe  that 
in  spite  of  our  pacific  manner  of  life  the  military 
element  is  not  lacking. 

What  does  the  Persian  regular  soldier  think  of 
all  this  ?  He  didn't  like  it  at  first,  and  minor 
complications  arose.  But  that  was  a  long  time 
ago — a  year  and  a  half  ago.  Nowadays  perfect 
peace  is  observed.  I  expect  he  wonders  what  he 
keeps  on  drilling  for — what  everybody  keeps  on 
drilling  for  :  and  he  probably  concludes  that  he, 
a  sarbaZy  is  a  mere  appanage  of  royalty,  a  con- 
stituent of  pomp  and  circumstance,  as  the  humble 
infantryman  was  throughout  Persia  before  the 
days  of  the  Swedish  gendarmerie.  I  recall  the 
comment  of  a  Bakhtiari  horseman  who  accom- 
panied me  for  some  days  on  a  journey  to  the 
coast  from  Isfahan.  He  was  describing  a  suc- 
cessful little  warring  expedition  of  three  hundred 
Bakhtiari  cavalry  and  a  thousand  regular  in- 
fantry sent  out  from  Teheran  some  years  ago.  I 
noticed  that  in  his  narrative  of  exploits  he  said 
nothing  about  the  thousand  infantry,  so  I  asked 
him  how  they  fared.  '  Oh,  they  did  very  well,' 
he  replied  airily ;  '  in  fact  they  were  rather  useful, 
as  they  always  fetched  food  and  fuel  for  us  in 
camp,  and  took  our  horses  to  water.  They  didn't 
fight,  of  course,'  he  added. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  155 

BiRJAND,  80th  April  1917. 

Dear  M., — I  am  for  the  road  again  at  last — 
Meshed,  Askabad,  Baku,  Resht,  Teheran,  and, 
if  the  fates  are  kind,  Hamadan  and  Kermanshah, 
the  last  being  my  destination.  I  sent  you  a 
telegram  with  the  joyful  news,  and  if  you  got  it — 
which  I  doubt — ^you  will  have  realised  (1)  that  I 
am  coming  nearer  Europe,  from  the  eastern 
border  of  Persia  to  the  western ;  (2)  that  I  am  to 
see  new  country  and  a  highway  famous  in  Persia's 
history  for  some  three  thousand  years ;  (3)  that  I 
am  to  have  the  privilege  of  visiting  a  recent  front 
of  war  and  of  settling  down  in  a  place  which  the 
Turk  has  held  for  the  greater  part  of  a  year.  It 
is  barely  two  months  now  since  the  Russians 
occupied  Hamadan,  and  less  than  that  since  they 
entered  Kermanshah  on  the  way  to  meet  our 
troops  who  were  busy  about  Baghdad.  People 
tell  me  Kermanshah  is  a  pleasant  spot,  blessed 
with  a  good  water-supply,  gardens,  and  vineyards. 
They  say  it  has  a  population  of  40,000,  as  to 
which  my  gazetteer  says  60,000  and  my  encyclo- 
paedia says  30,000,  while  another  authority  puts 
it  at  80,000  ;  but  they  all  speak  of  pre-war  con- 
ditions, which  by  no  means  apply  now. 

After  over  three  years  and  a  half  it  is  pleasant 
to  see  the  doors  open  again,  and  to  prepare  to 
quit  what  was  becoming  a  house  of  detention. 
Change,  movement, — the  most  desirable  things  to 


156  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

a  man  confined — new  scenes,  new  types,  new 
adventurings  within  this  sea  of  islands  which  is 
Persia.  Look  you,  I  was  getting  grey-haired  in 
Birjand,  and  now  the  process  is  arrested.  I  find 
myself  accordingly  in  sympathy  with  the  Russians 
of  our  little  colony,  who  have  had  a  new  world 
opened  to  them  in  the  last  six  weeks,  and  who 
live  from  day  to  day  in  a  turmoil  of  excitement. 
I  have  been  learning  a  little  of  the  Russian  lan- 
guage lately,  and  I  now  adventure  through  the 
forests  of  words  in  the  latest  newspapers  from 
Petrograd.  What  speeches,  declarations,  mani- 
festos, warnings,  appeals  !  The  press  is  full  of 
the  clamours  of  this  awesome  revolution.  Re- 
leases and  arrests,  dismissals  and  appointments — 
the  general  post  goes  on  daily,  and  there  seems  no 
end  to  the  holding  of  meetings  and  the  passing  of 
resolutions.  Poor  Russian  bear  !  He  has  found 
wings,  and  would  become  a  Pegasus,  but  he 
doesn't  yet  know  how  to  use  them,  and  is  in 
terrible  travail,  trying  them  this  way  and  that. 
And,  meanwhile,  the  hunters  are  ever  on  his  track, 
and  the  newspapers  report  daily  from  the  scenes 
of  war,  thus  :  '  Artillery  activity,  raids  and  aerial 
reconnaissances ' — which  is  just  what  seems  to  be 
happening  in  their  political  world,  with,  in  both 
cases,  the  threat  of  a  possible  worse  to  come,  and 
yet,  shining  through  it  all,  the  hope  of  a  glorious 
better. 

The  Russian  vice-consul  has  removed  from  his 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  157 

sitting-room  his  portrait  of  the  Tsar,  and  its  place 
is  now  blank,  with  a  horrible  great  nail  left  stick- 
ing in  the  wall.  The  Persian  military  band  has 
dropped  the  Russian  national  hymn  like  a  hot 
potato,  and  now  practises  assiduously — as  a 
temporary  substitute,  for  ceremonial  occasions — 
the  Marseillaise.  The  vice-consul,  the  doctor, 
and  the  telegraphist,  with  their  respective  wives, 
meet  in  each  other's  houses  and  indulge  in  the 
new  freedom  of  speech,  talking  omnivorously, 
like  famished  people  at  a  pastry-cook's  who  eat 
all  that  comes  their  way.  Meetings  !  Meetings  ! 
The  word  has  a  magic  sound  to  these  representa- 
tives of  Free  Russia. 

I  listened  to  them  recently  for  half  an  hour,  and 
could  make  little  of  it.  They  all  spoke  at  once, 
no  one  heeding  his  neighbour.  '  What  are  you 
talking  about  ?  '  I  asked  my  host.  '  Politics,' 
he  replied  with  a  hearty  laugh.  '  But  what  sort 
of  politics  ?  '  '  All  sorts.  A.  is  a  Social-Revolu- 
tionary, B.  is  a  Democrat,  C.  is  a  Monarchist,  D. 
is  a  Republican.'  '  And  what  are  you  ?  '  I  asked, 
as  he  finished  his  third  tumbler  of  tea  sweetened 
with  sugar  and  jam.  '  I  ?  I  am  a  Cadet !  ' 
And  he  plunged  into  the  discussion  again. 

I  visited  my  old  friend  the  Chief  of  the  Mer- 
chants the  other  day,  and  he  politely  expressed 
his  regrets  that  I  should  be  going  away  '  just 
when  we  have  got  to  know  each  other.'  Ap- 
parently the  idea  of  parting  led  the  old  man  to 


158  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

thoughts  of  after-Hfe,  and  reminded  him  of  the  in- 
visible wall  between  us,  for  he  set  out  by  indirect 
attack  to  make  a  Mohammedan  of  me,  referring 
significantly  to  the  fact  that  many  Englishmen, 
as  he  was  told,  had  recognised  the  superiority  of 
Islam  and  become  converts.  I  told  him  I  had 
not  met  any,  and  indicated  an  absence  of  any 
great  sympathy  or  admiration  for  converts  to 
either  faith,  suggesting  that  a  man  could  not 
change  his  skin,  and  that  such  matters  were  more 
than  skin-deep.  '  Blood  and  race  are  all  very 
well,'  said  he,  '  but  this  is  above  them.  A  man 
must  examine  for  himself  and  accept  the  truth 
where  he  finds  it.'  The  dogmatic  old  man,  I 
knew,  could  never  be  persuaded  that  so  far  as 
the  truth  was  concerned  that  invisible  wall  was 
a  mere  fabric  of  men's  minds  and  had  no  existence 
at  all.  So  we  left  it  at  that.  And  perhaps  he 
was  right,  and  no  doubt  he  had  a  comforting 
sense  that  he  was  doing  a  pious  thing  in  breaking, 
for  once  in  a  way,  the  general  convention  of 
silence  on  such  matters. 

BiRjAND,  30th  May  1917. 

Dear  M., — There  has  been  a  round  of  revelry 
lately  at  the  house  of  one  townsman  after  another, 
concerned  with  an  event  which  takes  place  in  the 
life  of  Mohammedan  boys  between  the  ages  of 
six  and  thirteen.  The  occasion,  as  observed  here, 
is  one  of  hospitality  even  more  than  a  wedding  is. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  159 

It  has  this  point  of  similarity  with  our  wed- 
dings, that  the  guests  give  presents  ;  but  with  the 
difference  that  the  presents— which  are  mostly 
in  money — precede  the  invitations,  instead  of 
reluctantly  following  them.  The  after-dinner 
public  entertainment,  which  is  a  feature  of  the 
celebrations,  is  rather  a  poor  affair  in  Birjand. 
The  father  of  the  family,  or  the  nearest  male 
relative,  instals  a  pair  of  sorry  musicians  with 
fife  and  drum  in  his  compound  ;  the  humbler 
townsfolk  gather  to  the  sound,  the  buffoon 
diverts  them  with  rustic  fooling,  and  those  who 
have  a  mind  to  it  join  in  the  dancing,  while  the 
women  watch  the  show  from  the  flat  roof.  At 
about  three  hours  after  sunset  they  disperse  to 
their  homes.  This  '  show,'  as  they  simply  name 
it,  is  repeated  for  three  to  eight  days  according 
to  the  social  position  of  the  host,  who  throughout 
the  period,  or  thereafter,  dispenses  more  material 
hospitality  to  a  large  or  small  number  of  guests. 
The  season  for  the  ceremony,  you  will  notice,  is 
the  late  spring. 

I  have  not  witnessed  these  shows,  but  I  have 
lately  seen  some  fine  free  dancing  of  a  more 
organised  nature  rare  to  this  town — the  ring 
dances  of  the  Seistani  levies  whom  I  referred  to 
recently.  On  the  first  occasion  the  British 
officers  here  and  myself  were  invited  by  the  levies 
to  a  tattoo  in  their  barracks.  On  the  second 
occasion   the    performance    was    repeated,    with 


160  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

variations,  in  front  of  the  Indian  cavalry  lines, 
the  native  officers  of  the  cavalry  being  our  hosts. 
The  third  occasion  took  place  last  night  in  the 
compound  of  a  private  house,  and  my  senses  are 
still  echoing  the  hum  and  bustle  of  it.  The  cooks 
were  busy  all  day  with  great  cauldrons  of  rice 
and  slabs  and  chunks  of  mutton  :  the  guests 
came  in  and  dined  in  the  compound  between 
seven  and  eight  o'clock  :  the  dancing  commenced 
at  nine.  We  ourselves  appeared  on  the  scene  at 
about  half-past  nine  and  were  given  seats  on  the 
verandah  facing  the  brick-paved  courtyard,  where 
the  barefooted  Seistanis  were  already  circling  in 
the  stick-dance.  The  players  stood  in  the  centre, 
and  the  dancers,  each  with  a  baton  in  his  right 
hand,  whirled  round  them  in  rhythmic  order  with 
a  succession  of  volte-face  movements,  each  man 
with  a  series  of  rapid  and  graceful  steps  facing 
round  in  turn  to  his  neighbour  in  front  and  his 
neighbour  behind  and  crossing  sticks.  You  will 
realise  that  the  staccato  click  of  thirty  sticks  in 
perfect  time  with  each  other  had  a  fascination  of 
its  own,  apart  from  which  the  dance  was  one  of 
leg  movement  only,  with  a  surprising  symmetry 
and  agility  in  the  double  progression.  The  pace 
and  vigour  increased,  and  we  watched  to  see 
some  one  get  a  hearty  crack  on  the  head  from  his 
neighbour's  baton  ;   but  the  shots  never  missed. 

The  second  item  was  a  solo  dance  by  a  young 
Indian  who  performed  a  sort  of  jig  with  a  dagger 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  161 

in  each  hand.  After  that  two  Russian  Cossacks 
came  on  and  set  to  each  other,  while  a  third  played 
a  merry  lilting  tune  on  their  beloved  concertina. 
They  span  around  with  a  great  deal  of  precise 
posturing,  and  the  neatest  of  foot-work  in  their 
black  light-soled  riding-boots.  Occasionally  one 
would  squat  on  his  haunches  and  carry  on  the 
dance  in  that  position  for  a  few  steps,  and  once  he 
surprised  us  by  approaching  his  partner  in  a  rapid 
somersault.  These  Cossacks  never  tire  of  dancing, 
nor  we  of  watching  them. 

The  next  item  was  a  dance  by  two  Persian  boys 
of  about  six  years  of  age,  who  flitted  about  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  a  space  of  twelve  feet 
by  eight.  These  little  fellows  were  respectable 
amateurs,  very  different  from  the  professional 
wriggler  known  to  larger  towns.  Their  bare  feet, 
'  like  little  mice,  ran  in  and  out '  through  a 
marvellous  maze  of  seemingly  impromptu  figures  : 
they  fluttered  and  hung  and  darted  and  turned 
after  and  about  each  other,  their  heads  always 
erect,  their  dark  eyes  shining  and  their  rosy 
cheeks  glowing  through  the  dim  light  of  the  lamps. 
Their  dancing  seemed  too  spontaneous  to  have 
been  studied,  and  yet  was  much  too  intricate  and 
artistic  to  be  unrehearsed.  It  was  like  two  elves 
disporting  themselves — but  very  skilful  and  in- 
telligent elves.  Here  was  all  the  poetry  of 
motion,  innocent  of  passionate  or  sentimental 
suggestion,  the  grace  of  young  things  joyously 


162  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

alive.  Mozart  in  his  childhood  (his  lighter  music 
suggests  it)  might  have  danced  like  that,  but  his 
curvettings  would  have  been  more  formal  and 
less  rich  in  cunning  and  variety ;  the  ilan,  the 
vei've,  the  entrainement  of  these  Persian  children 
was  more  than  Gallic. 

Through  it  all  the  satyr  in  the  background 
played  upon  his  reed  pipe.  His  face  was  pitted 
deep  with  smallpox  and  yellow  with  opium- 
smoking,  his  eyes  glazed,  void  of  expression. 
When  the  dance  was  over  the  Seistanis  rose  and 
began  to  form  a  ring  round  the  compound  again. 
The  player  put  aside  the  little  pipe  which  made  a 
sound  like  an  oboe,  and  recommenced  with  his 
usual  instrument,  which  sounds  very  like  a 
chanter — a  bagpipe  without  the  bag.  He  puffed 
his  cheeks  and  made  a  bag  of  them,  breathing 
through  his  nose  while  he  blew.  The  sound  was 
continuous,  and  he  never  seemed  to  stop  blowing. 
The  Seistanis  began  to  circle  again — a  motley 
circle  of  turbaned  heads,  bare  feet,  baggy  trousers, 
and  tight  waistcoats  below  which  the  free  tails  of 
their  white  shirts  flapped  and  flew.  They  had  no 
sticks  or  other  accessories  this  time,  and  the  dance 
was  one  of  free  gesture,  ample  movement,  and 
supple  flexions.  They  set  to  the  man  in  front 
with  Schottische  steps,  spun  round,  set  to  the 
man  behind,  advanced  towards  the  middle,  re- 
tired, whirled  fantastically,  and  began  over  again, 
progressing  always  round  the  ring.     By  this  time 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  163 

half  the  hghts  had  been  blown  ont  by  the  night 
breeze  :  the  pace  quickened  and  the  scene  took 
on  a  wild  and  demoniacal  aspect  :  the  onlookers 
caught  the  infection ;  some  of  them  entered  the 
giddy  vortex,  and  the  dance  became  a  medley  of 
dim  whirling  figures  with  flashes  of  white  shirt- 
tails  and  loose  turban-cloths. 

Finale,  presto.  The  guests  departed,  and  the 
dancers,  the  players,  and  the  crowd  vanished  into 
the  outer  moonlight.  Anon  came  the  cry  of  the 
night  -  police  challenging  homegoers,  and  then 
deep  silence,  broken  later  by  the  howling  of  cats 
on  the  roof  where  the  white-robed  women  had 
watched. 

MiHNEH,  7ih  June  1917. 
Dear  M., — I  left  Birjand  on  the  2nd,  probably 
never  to  return.  My  chief  feeling  was  one  of  mild 
relief  after  a  round  of  good-byes.  The  Persian  is 
often  a  sentimental  creature  with  the  gift  of 
abundant  speech  for  suitable  occasions.  If  you 
have  known  each  other  well  for  some  years,  he 
will  realise,  as  you  meet  for  the  last  time,  that 
here  is  indeed  a  minor  form  of  death,  and  he  may 
think  it  his  obligation  to  say  things  to  you  which 
in  your  own  country  would  only  be  said  at  your 
funeral.  If  he  grows  pathetic,  however,  you  have 
but  to  switch  him  off  with  a  twist  of  levity,  and 
he  laughingly  runs  down  the  proffered  siding, 
taking  the  hint  that  neither  of  you  is  very  deep 


164  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

in  the  affections  of  the  other,  or  could  ever  be  in 
the  nature  of  the  case. 

One  sometimes  hves  these  last  days  of  sojourn 
in  a  rarefied  atmosphere,  with  heightened  vision. 
The  ordinary  sights  and  sounds  of  daily  life  are 
noted  with  quickened  perception,  and  assume  a 
new  significance  when  the  veil  of  familiarity  is 
about  to  be  withdrawn  :  a  halo  of  farewell  makes 
the  commonest  things  arresting,  as  the  colours  of 
sunset  work  magic  in  a  dull  sky.     But  the  pitch 
of  sensation  was  not  raised  for  me  at  the  time  of 
leave-taking.     I  could  see  nothing  but  the  same 
old  egg- top  roofs,  the  same  narrow,  evil- smelling 
lanes  of  traffic,  the  same  opium-sodden  beggars. 
The   song   of  the   Indian   troopers  taking  their 
horses  to  water,  the  chant  of  the  bricklayer,  the 
evening  call  to  prayer  recited  by  the  old  man  with 
the  cracked  voice  and  the  little  boy  with  the 
brazen  one  (each  within  fifty  yards  of  me  and 
paying  no  attention  to  each  other's  periods),  the 
nightly  bugle-call  four  hours  after  sundown,  the 
braying  of  donkeys,  the    bleating  of  kids,  the 
gurgling  of  camels,   the   town-crier  announcing 
in  loud  long-drawn  tones  that  somebody's  calf  is 
lost,  the  cry  of  a  neighbour's  infant,  the  laughter 
of  veiled  women,  the  evensong  of  the  Cossacks 
lounging  across  the  way,  the  voice  of   the  toll- 
keeper  hailing  peasants  as  they  would  pass  his 
hut,  the  marching-tunes  of  the  native  band,  the 
tramp  of    infantrymen  and  the    staccato  sten- 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  165 

torian  '  one,  two,  one — one,  two,  one  '  of  the 
perspiring  Persian  officer,  whip  in  hand,  as  they 
passed  my  door  in  the  morning — all  these  come 
back  in  an  untimely  jumble  already  as  indifferent 
and  undistinguished  as  is  the  faint  droning  of 
flies  in  the  big  room  where  I  am  now  sitting  in  a 
village  half-way  to  Meshed. 

I  am  travelling  this  time  in  an  open  carriage 
with  four  good  horses  abreast,  guaranteed  to  take 
me  to  Meshed  in  eight  days.  The  driver  is  a 
Turk  from  Tabriz  in  the  north-west,  and  says  his 
prayers  facing  in  the  wrong  direction.  He  has  a 
groom  who  sits  or  stands  at  the  back  of  the  carriage. 
The  groom's  chief  characteristic  is  his  ugliness, 
and  his  chief  accomplishment  is  falling  off  his 
perch  in  a  deep  sleep,  waking  up  later  in  the  road- 
way, and  walking  in  our  tracks  for  the  rest  of  the 
stage.  My  servant  sits  beside  the  driver,  and  I 
dispose  myself  among  rugs  and  pillows  with  my 
feet  across  the  luggage  which  is  packed  in  the 
body  of  the  carriage.  Whiles  I  reclines  and 
sleeps.  Whiles  I  just  reclines.  So  the  time 
passes,  with  seven  to  eight  hours  a  day  driving 
and  the  rest  of  the  twenty-four  in  strange  lodgings 
which  provide  much  of  the  hazard  and  interest  of 
the  journey.  We  have  had  our  due  of  mishap 
already  at  a  place  where  a  dozen  gypsies  were 
encamped  in  goats'-hair  tents  on  the  outskirts  of 
a  village.  As  we  passed  their  encampment  on 
our  way  out  after  a  halt  the  carriage  tilted  on  a 


166  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

slope,  hung  for  a  second,  and  fell  on  its  side.  We 
picked  ourselves  up  from  the  road  and  proceeded 
to  right  matters.  The  swarthy  soft-featured 
gypsy  women  watched  us  over  a  low  wall  and 
smiled.  One  of  them  told  us  the  reason  for  the 
accident.  She  had  begged  alms,  it  appeared 
(though  I  had  no  knowledge  of  it),  and  my  servant 
had  turned  her  a  deaf  ear.  He  thought  nothing 
of  it,  or  perhaps  considered  that  the  dark  people 
had  had  all  the  revenge  they  wanted,  for  he  con- 
tinued to  turn  the  deaf  ear.  '  I  suppose,'  I  said 
to  the  driver,  '  you  don't  do  this  sort  of  thing 
very  often  ?  '  'Be  assured,'  he  replied  with  a 
chuckle ;  '  never  more  than  once  on  a  journey. 
We  will  now  get  to  Meshed  safely.'  He  flicked 
his  whip  and  we  started  off  once  more  at  a  trot. 
Before  we  had  gone  thirty  yards  in  the  narrow, 
uneven  roadway  the  same  thing  happened  again, 
and  again  we  rose  from  the  dust  and  looked  at 
each  other  and  examined  the  overturned  carriage. 
The  hood  was  broken  slightly  in  three  places. 
My  helmet  was  bruised  into  pulp.  I  was  cross 
with  the  driver,  and  he  with  his  luck.  '  She  has 
put  the  evil  eye  on  us,'  said  the  groom  as  he 
rubbed  his  bones.  I  looked  back  and  saw  the 
woman  still  smiling.  .  .  .  ?  No,  it  would  be  too 
absurd  to  go  back  and  give  her  something.  She 
laughed  lightly  and  turned  away.  We  got  off 
again,  and  have  had  no  trouble  since,  so  perhaps 
our  account  is  settled.     But  I  am  not  quite  sure. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  167 

and  if  ever  again  a  gypsy  asks  me  for  money — well, 
I  hope  I  shall  refuse  her. 

At  Beidukht  I  stopped  for  a  few  minutes  to  go 
over  a  new  mosque  which  is  being  built  to  en- 
shrine the  remains  of  Mulla  Sultan,  the  late  local 
chief  of  the  Sufi  sect — ^the  brotherhood  of  dervishes 
whose  district  headquarters  are  here  as  those  of 
the  Ismailis  are  at  Sihdeh.  The  tomb  is  in  the 
centre  of  the  unfinished  buildings,  and  I  was  about 
to  enter  the  chamber  when  I  saw  a  woman  in 
black  crouching  beside  it,  so  I  came  away  and 
scrambled  onto  my  rugs  and  pillows  again. 
Beidukht  is  a  poor,  ill-favoured  place,  unworthy 
of  such  a  memorial. 

At  Sihdeh  I  was  greeted  by  a  picket  of  Indian 
cavalry,  whose  native  officer  sent  me  a  Punjabi 
curry  for  lunch.  The  men  regretted  that  we 
should  have  no  more  football  together  in  Birjand, 
and  complained  of  having  too  little  to  do  with  the 
war,  so  I  tried  to  buoy  them  up  with  hopes  of  an 
early  return  to  India.  At  the  next  post  we  had 
passed  the  British  line  and  entered  the  Russian 
'  sphere  of  influence.'  As  my  carriage  stopped  I 
was  consummately  stared  at  by  a  few  Cossacks, 
one  of  whom  (a  solitary  Siberian  of  uncouth  bulk, 
with  little  half-buried  eyes)  peered  at  me  with  his 
hands  in  his  breeches  pockets  and  spat  heartily 
the  while  to  show  his  sense  of  the  new  emancipa- 
tion. So  far  as  I  have  come,  there  are  a  dozen  or 
more    men    posted   at   every   stage — big   blonde 


168  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

fellows  most  of  them,  the  picture  of  rude  health. 
They  get  little  news  of  the  war,  and  that  very 
belated,  so  the  few  I  spoke  with  were  eager  for 
the  latest  I  could  give  them. 

Chin  ARAN,  lUh  June  1917. 

Dear  M.,— Behold  me  speeding  for  the  Russian 
frontier  at  the  rate  of  thirty-six  miles  a  day,  in  the 
same  carriage,  with  the  same  driver,  the  Tabrizi 
Turk,  who  now  proclaims  himself  a  Russian 
subject  or  '  protected  person.'  This  morning  I 
left  Meshed,  where  I  had  spent  the  last  three  and 
a  half  days  renewing  old  acquaintances  and  mak- 
ing new  ones, — English,  Russian,  Belgian,  Ameri- 
can, Persian,  Indian,  and  Armenian — a  score  of 
people  who  form  a  cosmopolitan  colony  centring 
round  the  British  and  Russian  consulates.  Our 
consulate  is  a  roomy  two-storied  brick  building, 
in  the  middle  of  a  delightful  garden  where  you 
can  play  tennis  or  badminton  or  croquet  in 
surroundings  that  might  do  justice  to  a  country 
house  in  the  south  of  England.  You  may  take 
your  tea  there  on  the  lawns  within  a  rose-arbour 
or  beneath  a  weeping- willow  :  the  broad  verandah 
where  you  sit  in  the  cool  of  the  evening  is  marked 
off  with  a  deep  border  of  potted  geraniums,  and 
your  table  is  decked  with  dahlias.  The  tethered 
gazelles  grazing  beside  the  lambs  in  a  miniature 
park,  the  irrigation  channels  that  fringe  each 
patch  of  green,  the  big  almond  tree  and  the  great 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  169 

oriental  planes  in  whose  tops  the  crows  have 
nested,  are  barely  enough  to  remind  you  that  you 
are  in  the  East  :  if  they  do  remind  you,  it  is  only 
to  awaken  in  you  a  comfortable  appreciation  of 
the  fruitful  care  of  those  who  found  and  foster 
such  oases. 

Meshed  has  changed  much  since  I  last  saw  it. 
There  are  new  gardens,  new  houses,  new  shops, — 
a  whole  street  of  them — and  a  fine  new  building 
for  the  post  and  telegraph  offices  which  would  not 
shame  any  European  town.  The  town  square, 
where  the  band  plays  and  the  Persian  troops  drill 
of  a  morning,  is  lined  with  shady  trees  and  set 
about  with  flower-beds.  Most  marvellous  to  see, 
there  is  actually  a  public  park  where  the  towns- 
people walk  and  take  the  air  in  the  evenings. 
The  effect  on  the  town  of  a  garrison  of  several 
hundred  Russian  cavalry  is  manifest  in  other  ways. 
Many  of  the  shops  display  Russian  signs,  and  the 
Russian  language  has  been  rapidly  learnt  and  is 
freely  spoken  by  a  large  number  of  all  classes 
when  they  have  occasion  to  use  it  in  their  dealings 
with  the  troops.  Politically,  these  influences 
have  recently  become  dormant.  The  potent  ex- 
penditure of  the  rouble  continues,  and  the  display 
of  force  is  still  there,  but  the  revolution  in  Russia 
has  temporarily  paralysed  their  power  of  action, 
and  the  thoughts  of  officers  and  men  alike  are 
concerned  for  the  moment  with  the  single  question 
of  their  own  future.     The  Persians  in  Meshed  are 


170  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

very  curious  about  Russia's  prospects,  and  their 
lack  of  reliable  news  leads  them  to  spread  absurd 
rumours  from  time  to  time.  They  are  sym- 
pathetic enough,  and  hopeful  of  future  relations 
between  the  two  powers  and  peoples  more  flatter- 
ing to  themselves,  but  with  their  own  recent 
experience  of  the  results  of  abrupt  conversion 
from  despotism  to  ultra-democratic  ideas  they 
are  naturally  somewhat  cynical  and  sceptical  as 
to  the  upshot  in  Russia. 

The  Persian  democrats,  foiled  in  their  efforts  of 
1915-16  to  rouse  this  country  in  the  cause  of  our 
enemies,  have  suddenly  adopted  the  desperate 
methods  of  assassins.  In  Teheran  a  band  of 
terrorists  has  been  formed  who  have  issued 
notices  warning  prominent  individuals  against 
active  support  of  the  British  and  Russian  diplo- 
matic representatives.  Two  such  supporters  of 
our  legations  have  been  murdered  in  the  last  fort- 
night, and  others  have  since  been  threatened  for 
the  alleged  taking  of  bribes. 

Baku,  22nd  June  1917. 

Dear  M., — I  have  reached  the  fringe  of  Europe 
once  more,  and  am  taking  breath  for  a  space  after 
a  welter  of  strange  faces  and  unfamiliar  speech. 
I  wrote  you  on  the  14th  from  Chinaran.  On 
the  15th  I  passed  the  night  among  the  poplars 
and  willows  of  Kuchan,  a  new  town  built  to  re- 
place the  old  one  some  miles  away  which  was 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  171 

ruined  by  an  earthquake  a  generation  ago  and 
still  suffers  from  shocks.  On  the  16th  I  reached 
Imam  Quii,  a  green  spot  which  is  the  home  of 
Turki-speaking  Kurds,  and  on  the  17th  we 
crossed  the  frontier. 

At  the  Persian  frontier-post  our  troubles  began. 
My  passport,  with  my  photograph  gummed  to  it, 
bore  the  vise  of  the  Russian  consul-general  in 
Meshed,  and  was  supported  by  a  general  letter  of 
recommendation  from  him.  My  servant  had  a 
Persian  passport  also  endorsed  by  the  Russians 
and  with  his  photograph  attached.  The  carriage- 
driver  had  been  misinformed  and  had  failed  to 
provide  himself  with  a  pass  of  any  sort,  with  the 
result  that  we  were  held  up  for  a  couple  of  hours 
while  he  procured  a  permit  from  the  agent  for 
foreign  affairs.  This  settled,  we  drove  uphill  to 
the  frontier  and  downhill  to  the  Russian  customs 
post,  passing  on  the  way  the  barracks  of  the 
Russian  frontier  guard,  where  a  sentry  with  fixed 
bayonet  stood  by  the  roadside.  The  carriage 
was  unloaded  at  the  customs-house  and  a  cursory 
examination  of  our  belongings  was  made  by  a 
sour-faced  menial  whose  severity  was  tempered 
by  the  amiable  admonitions  of  a  mild-mannered 
clerk.  Our  passports  were  checked  by  this  latter, 
who  found  some  difficulty  over  the  carriage- 
horses  and  had  to  summon  his  chief,  a  blonde 
rugged  giant  of  bluff  manner  and  short  speech. 
While  awaiting  this  officer  the  clerk  entertained 


172  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

me  with  conversation  on  the  war,  which  he  knew 
Httle  about,  and  the  state  of  Russia,  as  to  which 
he  was  plaintive.  He  spoke  with  a  sing-song 
cadence  in  his  voice,  a  burlesque  intonation  which 
I  find  used  by  many  Russians.  He  seemed  to 
blame  the  revolution  for  the  simple  state  of  his 
office  and  furniture,  which  appeared  to  me 
exactly  the  same  as  when  I  saw  the  place  four 
years  ago. 

We  parted  the  best  of  friends,  and  I  drove  on 
to  a  little  village  where  we  passed  the  night.  As 
the  carriage  stopped,  three  or  four  soldiers  came 
forward  and  again  demanded  my  passport  and 
requested  me  to  have  my  luggage  opened  for 
examination.  The  non-commissioned  officer  in 
charge  of  the  post  (I  took  him  to  be  such,  though 
I  only  saw  him  in  shirt  and  trousers,  with  his 
braces  hanging  loose)  read  my  papers,  decreed 
that  an  examination  of  the  luggage  was  un- 
necessary, led  me  to  a  good  room  and  stood  in 
the  doorway  talking  till  my  tea  was  ready,  when 
he  said  good-bye  and  disappeared.  He  had  a  fair 
skin  and  fair  hair,  declared  himself  a  Pole,  and 
told  me  he  had  been  in  the  fighting  at  Warsaw. 
Like  the  customs  clerk,  he  asked  me  when  I 
thought  there  would  be  peace,  as  to  which  I 
claimed  no  inside  knowledge.  At  dinner-time 
my  servant,  Ismail,  produced  a  half-bottle  of 
Burgundy  which  had  crossed  the  frontier  with 
me,  and  which    I   disposed    of   with    particular 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  1T3 

relish  because  the  sale  of  wine  is  forbidden  in 
Russia. 

Next  morning  we  started  at  5  o'clock  in  the 
hope  of  catching  a  train  which  left  Askabad  at 
11  a.m.  according  to  the  customs  clerk,  and 
at  9.30  according  to  him  of  the  hanging  braces. 
At  8.30  we  pulled  up  at  the  station  after 
passing  a  common  where  squads  of  young 
soldiers  were  drilling.  I  now  learnt  that  the 
morning  train  carried  only  third  -  class  pas- 
sengers and  that  the  evening  train  would  be  at 
5.25,  so  we  drove  off  again  along  tree  -  lined 
avenues  to  the  Orient  Hotel.  There  I  engaged 
a  room  and,  going  downstairs  to  pay  off  my  driver 
the  Tabrizi  Turk,  met  Ismail  coming  along  the 
corridor  looking  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost,  whereas 
all  he  had  seen  was  the  mere  suggestion  of 
European  city  life.  After  that  first  sight  of  a 
very  ordinary  hotel,  with  maid-servants,  un- 
secluded,  serving  a  male  public,  not  even  the 
railway  nor  the  steamer  could  open  his  eyes  so 
wide  in  shy  wonder. 

At  Askabad  I  went  first  to  a  barber,  and 
afterwards  to  a  Persian  bath  as  there  was  no 
bathroom  in  the  hotel.  The  friseur  was  a  lad  of 
seventeen  or  so,  who  told  me  he  drilled  with  the 
soldiers  twice  a  week.  Later,  I  breakfasted  in 
my  room  with  tea  and  sugar,  eggs  and  bread. 
As  there  was  no  dining-room  I  decided  in  an 
unlucky  moment   to   lunch    outside,   and    went 


174  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

accordingly  to  a  restaurant  of  indifferent  quality, 
where  I  got  fish  and  bread  and  mineral  water,  tea 
with  sugar  being  unobtainable,  as  also  alcoholic 
drinks  of  any  kind.  While  I  was  there  a  man  left 
the  place  with  very  uncertain  gait,  obviously  well 
primed  with  liquor,  the  nature  of  which  I  didn't 
learn. 

At  a  little  after  five  I  drove  to  the  station  and 
found  long  queues  at  the  booking-offices.  I  was 
now  told  that  the  train,  due  to  arrive  at  5.25, 
would  leave  at  6.30,  which  it  did  punctually.  I 
commissioned  a  porter  to  buy  tickets — one  first 
and  one  fourth  class.  There  was  no  third  class, 
and  he  found  that  there  were  no  places  available 
in  first  or  second.  Repeated  chases  after  the 
stationmaster,  who,  run  to  earth  at  last,  was  all 
smiles  and  apologies,  but  could  do  nothing.  The 
porter  eventually  got  me  a  fourth- class  ticket  and 
asked  the  attendant  in  the  dining-car  to  let  me  sit 
there  for  the  journey.  Ismail  was  duly  given  his 
place  in  the  fourth  class,  in  a  compartment  with 
six  sleeping-berths  in  tiers  of  three,  with  my 
luggage  piled  opposite  him  on  the  other  side  of 
the  corridor,  where  also  were  two  berths  placed 
lengthways  to  the  train.  His  travelling  com- 
panions were  all  soldiers,  wlio  took  to  him  at  once 
and  began  to  teach  him  Russian  by  asking  him 
all  sorts  of  questions  which  he  couldn't  answer. 
I  left  him  in  a  circle  of  popularity,  and  went  to  the 
dining-car,  where  people  were  drinking  beer  or  tea. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  175 

Later  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  two  school- 
boys, aged  about  sixteen,  who  were  going  some 
distance  west  on  hoHday  from  a  gymnase  at 
Charsu.  A  real  hve  Britisher  was  a  priceless 
curiosity  to  these  lads,  who  bombarded  me  with 
questions  on  all  sorts  of  matters,  including  the 
details  of  our  military  uniform  from  a  field- 
marshal's  to  a  sub-lieutenant's.  I  asked  them  if 
they  spoke  French,  and  the  more  voluble  of  the 
two  replied  that  he  had  been  two  years  at  it  and 
couldn't  speak  a  word,  but  that  they  knew  some 
German.  He  complained  about  education  in 
Russia,  which  he  said  was  of  no  value,  and  when 
a  passenger  brushed  past  his  comrade  on  the 
passage  at  the  end  of  the  car  he  complained  of 
Russian  manners.  I  told  him  that  many  an 
English  boy  could  not  speak  a  word  of  French 
after  two  years'  study,  and  that  many  a  passenger 
on  English  trains  was  lacking  in  good  manners. 
He  said  that  he  hoped  to  become  an  engineer,  and 
would  go  to  America  for  that  end  if  the  war  was 
over  before  his  military  service  was  due,  scientific 
instruction  being  hopeless  in  Russia.  '  I  hope 
you  will  go,'  said  I,  '  and  come  back  and  put 
matters  right  in  your  own  country.  The  future 
depends  on  you  and  others  like  you.'  He  told 
me  he  had  heard  that  if  Russia  made  a  separate 
peace,  England  would  at  once  seize  Turkestan 
with  the  help  of  the  Afghans.  He  imagined  that 
Afghanistan  swarmed  with  Englishmen,  whereas 


176  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

they  have  always  been  prohibited  from  entering 
that  country.  The  train  stopped,  and  the  boys 
rushed  me  off  to  see  a  museum  of  rehcs  and 
souvenirs  of  the  war  with  the  Turkomans — a 
collection  of  ordnance,  arms  and  ammunition, 
equipment,  battle  pictures,  and  photographs  of 
officers.  Among  the  passengers  on  the  train  who 
hastened  out  to  view  these  exhibits  was  a  number 
of  Turkoman  officers  themselves,  now  subjects  of 
Russia — big  men  of  powerful  physique,  with 
striped  red  robes,  enormous  sheep-skin  hats  over 
their  embroidered  skull-caps,  and  daggers  stuck 
in  their  belts. 

The  next  man  I  spoke  to  was  a  mechanic,  an 
employee  on  the  railway,  who  finding  I  was  a 
foreigner  promptly  concluded  that  I  must  be  an 
Austrian  prisoner  under  convoy,  but  was  none 
the  less  obliging.  My  third  acquaintance  was  a 
little  fair-haired  Jew  who  spoke  Persian.  He  had 
been  a  buyer  of  lambskins  in  Persia  for  some 
years,  but  had  lost  so  much  money  in  bad  debts 
that  he  swore  never  to  return  to  that  distressful 
country.  After  dinner  those  officers  and  women 
who  had  berths  in  the  first  or  second  class  retired 
gradually,  and  there  remained  three  senior  officers 
who  I  found  were  in  the  same  position  as  myself — 
passengers  with  fourth-class  tickets  who  proposed 
to  spend  the  night  in  the  dining-car.  With  one 
of  them,  a  much-decorated  colonel  of  a  Turkestani 
regiment,  I  had  a  long  conversation  principally 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  177 

on  the  war  and  the  state  of  Russia.  He  was 
plaintive,  like  the  schoolboys.  '  Before  the  revolu- 
tion my  soldiers  were  like  my  own  children.  Look 
at  them  now  !  Discipline  has  gone  and  there  is 
no  sign  of  its  returning.  One  must  ask  them  to 
do  this,  and  suggest  to  them  to  do  that,  and  gently 
request  them  not  to  do  the  other.  Punishment 
has  been  abolished,  and  of  course  orders  are  not 
listened  to.  The  country  is  in  a  hopeless  con- 
dition. They  say  that  if  matters  don't  improve, 
Japan  will  step  in  and  take  control.  What  do 
the  Enghsh  say  about  us  ?  '  I  could  only  reply 
that  the  English  knew  what  losses  the  Russians 
had  suffered  in  the  first  year  of  the  war  and  did 
not  expect  them  to  make  an  offensive  movement 
till  the  revolution  had  boiled  down  a  bit,  but 
would  be  content  to  see  them  hold  their  line. 
This  pleased  the  colonel,  who  was  afraid  the 
British,  the  Japanese,  and  the  Germans  between 
them  were  going  to  swallow  up  Russia.  His 
apprehensions  appeared  to  be  shared  by  others 
to  whom  he  afterwards  quoted  his  question  and 
my  reply,  much  to  their  rehef  and  my  astonish- 
ment. 

At  midnight  the  train  stopped  at  a  station 
where  we  hoped  to  find  places  available.  There 
proved  to  be  none,  and  when  we  returned  to  the 
dining-car  we  found  it  locked  against  us.  The 
colonel  found  a  seat  somehow,  and  I  stood  in  the 
corridors  for  an  hour  or  two  and  then  sought 

M 


178  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Ismail  in  the  fourth-class  boxes,  where  I  stretched 

myself  on  an  upper  berth  with  a  rug  and  a  pillow. 

The  smell  of  humanity  was  overpowering,  and 

with  that  and  the  pig-like  snoring  of  a  man  in  the 

berth  alongside,  my  sleep  was  rather  uneasy.     I 

rose  again  at  four  o'clock,  and  shortly  afterwards 

I  was  found  lurking  in  the  second-class  corridor 

by   an   inspector    who   immediately   assumed   a 

manner   and  threatened   me   with   a   fine.     The 

attendant  explained  my  case,  and  at  the  next 

station  he  succeeded  in  getting  me  a  ticket  for  a 

second-class  berth,  where  I  snatched  some  more 

sleep.     We  arrived  at  Krasnovodsk  at  about  nine 

o'clock,  and  I  got  a  second-class  passage  for  Baku, 

the  first  being  full.     We  could  not  go  on  board  till 

three   in  the  afternoon,  and  as  there  is  no  good 

hotel  at  Krasnovodsk  we  spent  the  whole  of  the 

intervening  time  in  the  dreary  big  room  at  the 

station,   where   I  had  a  satisfactory  lunch,  but 

could   get   no   newspapers.      I   was   relieved  of 

fifteen  roubles  in  all  for  the  simple  business  of 

taking  my  luggage  from  the  station,  putting  it 

on  board,  and  purchasing  my  tickets,  all  which 

certainly  took  a  considerable  time  to  accomplish. 

The  boat  (a  converted  cargo-boat  twenty-nine 

years    old,    oil-driven    with    Bolinder    engines) 

arrived  while  we  were  waiting  at  the  shore  end 

of  the  pier,  and  some  thirty  soldiers  came  off 

burdened  with  kit,  some  of  them  bandaged  and 

one    or    two    limping.     The    courteous    colonel, 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  179 

whose  very  agreeable  company  I  had  as  far  as 
Baku,  explained  that  these  latter  were  sick  or 
diseased.  '  We  have  had  practically  no  wounded,' 
said  he,  '  for  many  months  now.'  After  the 
soldiers  came  the  civilians — a  motley  lot  of  Jews, 
Turks,  Persians,  Tatars,  Russians,  Armenians, 
and  what  not.  The  embarking  passengers  were 
then  allowed  through  the  pier  gate,  soldiers  first 
again. 

We  were  given  a  good  evening  meal  between 
five  and  six,  when  the  amiable  colonel  was  kept 
busy  persuading  three  women  that  the  sea  was 
calm  (which  was  perfectly  true),  that  they  would 
not  be  sea-sick  (which  was  probable),  and  that  on 
the  Black  Sea  whither  they  were  bound  they  would 
not  be  torpedoed  (which  was  at  least  possible). 
At  nine  o'clock  I  had  a  glass  of  tea  with  brown 
bread  provided  by  the  company,  with  sugar  pro- 
vided by  myself,  and  jam  contributed  by  a  fellow- 
passenger —  a  government  clerk  wearing  gold 
shoulder-straps  and  standing  about  six  feet  five 
in  his  shoes.  With  him  and  the  colonel  I  had  an 
interesting  confabulation  for  an  hour  or  more 
before  we  retired  for  the  night.  They  were  both 
very  deprecatory  when  speaking  about  their 
country,  astonishingly  like  Persians  in  that  re- 
spect, and  to  a  point  of  illogical  childishness. 
'  Have  some  more  tea,'  said  the  clerk.  '  No 
more,  thank  you.  I  don't  usually  drink  tea  at 
night,  and  might  not  sleep  after  it.'     '  Ah  !  there 


180  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

now  !  Look  at  the  system  of  the  English,'  said 
the  colonel.  '  We  Russians  drink  tea  at  any  hour 
and  to  any  extent,  and  then  we  go  to  bed  with 
troubled  heads.  We  do  everything  like  that. 
You  others  know  what  is  good  for  you  and  keep 
to  it.'  I  thought  of  my  cabin  companion,  a  mild 
young  Russian  civilian  with  glasses  and  a  straw 
helmet,  who  told  me  at  dinner  that  he  never  ate 
meat  or  smoked  tobacco,  on  principle. 

We  arrived  next  morning  at  Baku,  where  three 
hydroplanes  were  circling  in  the  bay.  I  found  my 
way  to  the  Hotel  d' Europe,  which  is  frequented 
by  the  Americans  and  the  British  in  the  town 
— the  British  colony  numbering  about  fifty. 
Baku  is  not  a  pretty  port,  and  I  was  anxious  to 
leave  it  as  soon  as  possible,  so  I  was  not  cheered 
by  the  announcement  that  owing  to  new  regula- 
tions I  should  probably  have  to  remain  for  three 
weeks,  particularly  as  I  found  that  bare  living  in 
the  hotel  (where  there  was  abundance  of  food) 
cost  thirty  roubles  a  day,  and  that  there  was  noth- 
ing to  be  seen  or  done.  This  morning,  however, 
being  the  third  day  of  my  stay,  I  went  to  the 
prefect  armed  with  papers,  and  obtained  from  him 
after  some  demur  the  necessary  permission  for 
myself  and  my  servant.  We  are  to  leave  Baku 
this  evening  by  a  paddle  steamer  for  the  Persian 
port  of  Enzeli. 

Baku  is  perfectly  quiet,  but  on  every  hand 
I   hear  the   same  story   of   disorganisation   and 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  181 

paralysis.  I  find,  for  instance,  that  telegrams 
to  England  are  delayed  for  any  time  up  to  a 
month,  and  mails  take  at  least  six  weeks  ;  that 
the  local  papers  have  very  little  news  and  the 
Moscow  and  Petrograd  papers  arrive  a  fortnight 
old  ;  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  me  to  send 
money  to  London  ;  that  the  soldiers  are  idle  and 
the  hospitals  empty  of  all  but  sick  ;  that  the  sale 
of  wine  is  absolutely  prohibited,  but  is  carried  on 
by  devious  methods.  The  newspapers  are  still 
full  of  speeches  and  appeals,  and  every  one  seems 
extremely  vocal  and  extremely  inactive.  Some 
of  the  few  English  people  I  have  met  are  frankly 
intolerant,  and  when  the  situation  is  referred  to 
they  dispose  of  it  in  one  or  two  trenchant  ex- 
pressions in  the  typical  manner,  and  wish  them- 
selves elsewhere. 

Resht,  2Uh  June  1917. 
Dear  M., — I  wrote  you  two  days  ago  from  Baku, 
since  when  I  have  escaped  from  Europe  and  all 
its  works  and  reached  Persia  again — a  haven  of 
comparative  quiet.  We  boarded  the  steamer  at 
seven  in  the  evening,  left  an  hour  later,  and  dined 
at  9.30,  by  which  time  I  had  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  a  young  Russian  consular  official  travel- 
ling to  Resht,  and  a  Persian  of  about  thirty-two 
who  was  returning  from  London  after  six  years 
abroad,  spent  mostly  in  Switzerland,  where  he 
had  been  studying  law  at  the  Geneva  university. 


182  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

The  boat  was  full  of  soldiers  who  swarmed  onto 
the  decks  fore  and  aft  and  amidships,  crowded 
and  jostled  themselves  into  some  sort  of  com- 
panionable comfort,  lay  down,  and  went  to  sleep. 
The  more  wakeful  of  them  sat  littering  their 
surroundings  with  the  shells  of  pistachio  nuts,  and 
a  few  mounted  to  the  promenade  deck  above, 
where  they  passed  a  breezy  rainy  night.  The 
men  carried  no  arms  :  they  were  all  bound  for 
the  Kermanshah  front,  and  they  all  looked 
thoroughly  fit.  They  behaved  in  the  quietest 
possible  manner,  without  any  stir  or  bustle, 
talking  to  each  other  in  subdued  tones  and  with 
their  rugged  faces  rarely  lit  by  a  smile  or  a  sign 
of  animation.  The  officers  on  board,  so  far  as  I 
saw,  paid  not  the  least  attention  to  their  men, 
nor  did  the  men  trouble  their  officers. 

The  Persian  returning  from  London  told  me 
there  were  a  score  of  Persians  to  his  knowledge 
now  there,  and  the  same  number  in  Switzerland, 
which  before  the  war  harboured  some  hundreds. 
The  Persians  in  Europe,  he  said,  had  mostly  gone 
back  to  Persia  since  1914,  and  the  majority  of 
them  were  democrats.  '  Which  means  that  they 
are  hostile  to  England  and  Russia  ?  '  '  Yes,'  he 
assented.  '  Where  is  So-and-so  ?  '  I  asked,  nam- 
ing a  former  friend  of  mine  who  had  been  very 
pro-British.  '  He  is  now  in  Berlin,'  was  the  reply  : 
'  I  had  a  letter  from  him  not  long  ago.'  I  won- 
dered  what   might   be   the   implication   of  that 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  183 

letter,  but  I  said  nothing.     It  is  a  state  of  affairs 
that  doesn't  encourage  conversation. 

We  arrived  at  EnzeH  eighteen  hours  after 
leaving  Baku.  As  the  steamer  drew  alongside 
I  saw  the  wharf  lined  with  several  hundred 
Russian  soldiers  without  arms  or  equipment. 
*  Where  are  they  going  ?  '  I  asked.  '  Nowhere. 
They  are  simply  passing  the  time.'  Our  pass- 
ports were  checked  and  returned  to  us,  and  I  left 
the  boat,  having  already  commissioned  a  man 
to  engage  me  a  carriage.  On  the  way  to  the 
customs-house,  my  things  being  carried  by  sailors, 
I  attracted  two  other  well-wishers.  My  passport 
became  once  more  and  for  the  last  time  an  object 
of  interest,  after  which  my  luggage  was  partly 
examined  by  a  petty  officer  of  the  Russian  navy. 
The  three  men  who  had  attached  themselves  to 
me  engaged  three  others  to  carry  my  luggage 
thirty  yards,  and  the  six  of  them,  with  much  loud- 
voiced  discussion,  bestowed  it  in  and  behind  the 
cab.  I  had  to  tip  eight  men  for  doing  the  work 
of  three,  but  I  made  little  objection,  being  glad 
to  find  myself  on  Persian  soil  again.  The  two- 
horse  rubber-tyred  carriage  drove  off,  and  for 
three  hours  we  bowled  along  through  what  was 
to  my  eyes,  parched  with  the  arid  landscapes  of 
the  Persian  plateau,  the  most  delightful  scenery 
— sub-tropical  jungle  and  woodland  alternating 
with  stretches  of  bright  green  paddy-fields  where 
the  transplanted  rice  grew  under  water  in  sym- 


184  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

metrical  rows  within  minutely  divided  areas, 
while  at  intervals  we  passed  stretches  of  succulent 
pasture  where  foals  wandered  and  cattle  grazed 
in  large  numbers.  The  altitude  throughout  was 
very  little  above  the  level  of  the  Caspian  Sea,  and 
the  mild  air  was  heavy  with  moisture  which  was 
balm  to  my  nostrils. 

The  way  was  marked  with  signposts  in  Russian, 
and  the  motor-wagons  and  cars  and  one-horse 
carts  which  passed  us  frequently  were  a  sufficient 
reminder  that  this  was  Russia's  military  high- 
way leading  to  Hamadan,  Kermanshah,  and  the 
Turkish  frontier.  We  stopped  half-way  to  rest 
the  horses,  and  my  servant,  Ismail,  fetched  me  a 
glass  of  tea  from  the  '  coffee  '-shop.  Ismail  had 
recovered  his  normal  self  by  now,  and  his  face  was 
lit  up  with  a  happy  smile  of  relief  and  satisfaction 
as  if  he  had  just  returned  from  a  prolonged  and 
painful  exile.  '  There  wasn't  enough  sugar  in 
Russia,  but  here  they  give  you  too  much,'  said  he, 
as  if  to  put  the  matter  in  a  nutshell.  '  Well,'  I 
said,  '  you  needn't  have  let  them  half  fill  my 
glass  with  sugar.  In  Russia  I  was  your  servant 
at  times,  but  now  the  position  has  reverted.' 
'  Sarkar,'  said  he,  '  I  was  ashamed  beyond  words 
before  my  master  in  Russia,  being  so  helpless  and 
useless  in  a  strange  land.  I  thank  God  that  is 
finished.  x\nd  if  that  is  really  Russia  that  we 
have  been  through  in  the  last  week — well,  I  am 
the  slave  of  Persia  for  ever.'     '  I  have  already  told 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  185 

you,'  I  said,  '  that  Eastern  Russia  is  not  Russia 
proper,  and  that  Eastern  Russia  in  war-time  and 
during  a  period  of  revolution  is  a  very  different 
thing  from  Europe  in  times  of  peace.'  '  Did  you 
see  that  tradesman  in  Krasnovodsk,'  he  asked, 
*  who  cuffed  that  poor  porter  till  his  nose  bled  ? 
When  I  was  on  the  boat,'  he  went  on  with  only 
apparent  irrelevance,  '  a  soldier  beside  me  had 
some  trouble  with  his  neighbour,  a  man  of  humble 
position.  He  beat  him  unmercifully  till  the  poor 
fellow  cried,  and  no  one  made  any  objection. 
The  soldiers  as  a  rule,  though,  were  very  quiet  and 
didn't  trouble  any  one,  and  the  Russians  in  the 
streets  of  Baku  were  just  the  same,  and  went 
about  their  own  business.  But  whenever  I  left 
the  hotel  at  Baku  I  was  repeatedly  accosted  by 
impertinent  Caucasian  Turks,  who  wanted  me  to 
answer  all  sorts  of  questions  about  myself.  They 
worried  me  to  death,  giving  me  no  peace,  so  that 
I  gave  up  walking  in  the  streets.  When  a  man  is 
in  a  foreign  land  he  should  be  going  about  and 
seeing  the  sights,  but  I  could  only  sit  on  the  floor 
in  the  room,  like  a  deaf  and  dumb  fool,  absolutely 
miserable.' 

Ismail,  you  see,  had  suffered  the  loss  of  some 
illusions  about  European  civilisation,  of  which  he 
had  just  skirted  the  borders.  He  had  always 
been  told  that  Europe  was  a  long  way  ahead  of 
Asia  in  everything,  and  like  any  ignorant  country- 
man he  drew  the  wrong  conclusions.     He  ex- 


186  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

pected  more  spaciousness,  more  ease  and  comfort, 
and  he  found  jostling  crowds  and  unceasing  noise. 
He  conceived  vaguely  of  a  higher  form  of  human- 
ity, with  more  refinement  of  conduct,  more 
courtesy  of  intercourse,  more  nobility  and  grace 
of  aspect  in  matter  and  in  man.  Reckoning  his 
impressions  by  such  a  standard  of  value,  he  found, 
of  course,  but  little  to  admire  or  emulate,  par- 
ticularly when  I  warned  him  against  casual  rogues 
and  exorbitant  shopkeepers  in  the  streets  of  Baku. 
I  am  confident,  therefore,  that  he  will  remain  a 
true  son  of  Iran,  reassured  of  the  superior  merits 
and  attractiveness  of  his  own  country,  while 
admitting,  for  the  sake  of  argument,  the  advan- 
tages of  swift  locomotion,  and  the  initial  pleasure 
of  such  minor  facilities  as  obtaining  an  unlimited 
supply  of  good  and  clean  water  by  simply  turning 
a  mysterious  tap. 

Teheran,  30^^  June  1917. 

Dear  M.,— I  left  Resht  on  the  morning  of  the 
25th,  in  a  tyreless  landau  with  four  post-horses 
abreast.  The  following  afternoon  we  arrived  at 
Kazvin,  where  I  stopped  for  the  night,  leaving 
again  the  next  day  after  lunch.  At  two  o'clock 
on  the  28th  I  finally  drew  up  in  Teheran,  where 
my  journeying  is  over  for  the  time  being.  As 
usual,  I  find  that  my  heavy  luggage,  which  had 
been  sent  on  by  the  direct  route  from  Meshed 
three  or  four  weeks  ago,  has  neither  arrived  nor 
been  heard  of. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  187 

From  Resht  to  Teheran  the  road  is  a  good  one, 
metalled  where  necessary,  and  without  the  bumps 
and  hazards  to  which  I  have  grown  accustomed 
in  other  parts  of  the  country.  The  horses  are 
changed  every  three  hours  or  so,  and  the  traveller 
may  occasionally  be  delayed  an  hour  or  two  wait- 
ing for  fresh  relays,  but  he  is  otherwise  free  to 
continue  his  journey  night  and  day  if  he  likes,  at 
an  average  pace  of  five  and  a  half  miles  an  hour. 
The  rich  alluvial  land  of  the  flat  coast-belt, 
with  dense  forest-growth  broken  at  intervals  by 
rice  fields,  continues  for  seven  or  eight  hours  from 
Resht,  gradually  giving  way  to  less  luxuriant 
country  as  the  road  rises  to  the  uplands.  The 
air  becomes  cooler,  drier,  and  more  invigorating, 
and  one  suddenly  finds  oneself  back  among  the 
naked  hills,  the  scanty  pastures,  and  the  sterile 
stretches  which  characterise  the  whole  plateau  of 
Persia. 

On  the  way  to  Kazvin  I  met  many  military 
transport  carts,  and  some  three  hundred  Russian 
soldiers  (among  them  a  few  junior  officers)  re- 
turning on  foot  and  in  motor-lorries  to  the  front 
of  war.  They  had  no  arms  or  equipment  beyond 
in  some  cases  a  small  haversack,  and  when  at  one 
point  half  a  dozen  of  them  gathered  round  my 
cigarette  case,  one  of  them,  in  answer  to  my  ques- 
tion, asked  me  how  I  could  expect  them  to  have 
cigarettes  when  they  had  insufficient  bread  even. 
They  all  bore  themselves  with  the  same  subdued, 


188  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

almost  stolid  air  that  I  had  remarked  in  the 
soldiers  on  the  railway  and  on  the  Caspian  Sea — 
the  air  of  normally  strong  men  browbeaten  by  fate 
and  looking  to  suffer  still.  At  Kazvin,  where  the 
highway  to  Hamadan  and  Kermanshah  branches 
off,  I  lost  sight  of  these  men,  and  thereafter  the 
level  road,  which  skirts  the  Elburz  range  of 
mountains  till  it  finally  crosses  the  now  hot  and 
dusty  plain  to  Teheran,  was  deserted  of  all  but 
post-wagons  and  a  few  road-carriages  and  mule 
caravans  of  merchandise. 

I  had  been  warned  of  many  changes  in  the 
capital  since  I  left  it  eight  years  ago,  but  the  old 
types  and  the  old  landmarks  drew  my  attention 
much  more  than  the  fresh  veneer  of  advancing 
civilisation  which  has  been  streaked  over  the 
town.  The  club  maintained  by  the  European 
colony  is  more  prosperous  than  of  old,  and  there 
is  a  new  Imperial  Club  for  Persians  and  Europeans, 
founded  principally  for  sports  but  now  more  noted 
for  card- playing.  There  are  two  or  three  hotels 
which  deserve  the  name  rather  more  than  some 
of  their  predecessors  did.  New  buildings  and 
new  shops  have  improved  a  few  of  the  main 
streets,  which  are  now  better  cared  for :  the  central 
square,  where  the  same  old  muzzle-loader  cannon 
repose,  is  lit  at  night  with  arc  lights.  The  tradi- 
tional thirst-quenching  British  hospitality  comes 
over  one  with  the  same  flow  and  variety  as  in 
former  days  of  peace,  which  is  surprising  in  view 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  189 

of  the  state  of  traffic  with  Europe  and  India. 
There  are  minor  alleviations,  such  as  the  possi- 
bility of  visiting  a  barber's  shop  instead  of  send- 
ing, as  we  used  to  do,  for  a  black-frocked  person 
who,  with  blunt  scissors  (and  a  blunter  machine, 
of  which  he  was  very  proud),  made  strange  cryptic 
patterns  on  one's  head  if  his  artistic  instinct  was 
not  carefully  controlled.  The  brightest  feature 
of  the  street  to  the  newcomer  is  unquestionably 
the  Persian  gendarme,  the  chaste  elegance  of 
whose  uniform,  in  striking  contrast  to  the  sombre 
and  floppy  dress  of  the  people,  arrests  the  eye 
repeatedly  on  every  line  of  traffic. 

The  various  legations  desert  the  town  for  the 
summer,  and  are  now  established  in  their  usual 
country  quarters  six  or  seven  miles  to  the  north 
towards  the  mountains,  where  are  also  most  of 
the  British  bank  and  telegraph  staffs  and  other 
European  residents.  There  are  several  Swedish 
officers  in  charge  of  the  gendarmerie  and  the 
police.  The  latter  force  appears  to  be  under  good 
control :  the  chief  of  police  is  at  the  moment 
engaged  in  tracking  down  members  of  the  ever- 
increasing  society  of  terrorists  whose  avowed  object 
is  the  assassination  of  Anglophile,  Russophile, 
and  reactionary  Persians.  Their  latest  victim  is 
the  treasurer-general  of  Persia,  who  by  all 
accounts  was  little  deserving  of  murder.  Whether 
these  assassins  will  be  fitly  dealt  with  by  the 
Persian   authorities   is   at   present   a   matter   of 


190  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

doubt,  the  men  being  regarded  by  many  Persians 
as  patriots,  misguided  at  worst. 

Hamadan,  22nd  July  1917. 

Dear  M.,— Your  letters  of  18th  March  and  25th 
April  reached  me  in  Teheran,  and  you  may 
imagine  how  welcome  they  were  as  it  was  a  full 
month  since  I  had  had  any  home  news.  It  is  good 
to  know  that  everything  is  unchanged,  or  was 
three  months  ago,  and  that  P.  R.'s  talism  (which 
is  the  Persian  for  a  mascot)  still  serves  him  well. 
I  notice  that  you  have  stopped  speculating  and 
ruminating  about  the  war,  which  seems  to  have 
become  almost  a  natural  state  of  existence  with 
you  all.  I  suppose  that  during  demobilisation 
and  thereafter  you  will  lose  the  new  habits  as 
gradually  as  they  have  been  acquired.  You  get 
little  news  from  this  part  of  the  world,  it  seems : 
Persia  is  certainly  a  backwater  at  present,  and 
has  dropped  quite  out  of  importance  since  the 
capture  of  Baghdad.  I  found,  for  instance,  that 
there  were  practically  no  press  correspondents  at 
the  capital,  and  that  Reuter's  news  agency  was 
being  run  by  some  one  in  his  spare  time.  I  see, 
by  the  way,  from  your  last  letter  that  my  tele- 
gram from  Birjand  took  a  fortnight  to  reach  you. 

I  left  Teheran  on  the  5th  after  a  stay  of  a  week, 
returning  on  my  tracks  as  far  as  Kazvin.  My 
Birjandi  servant,  Ismail,  left  the  day  before  to 
return  to  his  family,  much  to  my  regret,  as  the  boy 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  191 

had  given  me  loyal  service  for  four  years.  From 
experience,  however,  I  knew  that  he  would  not  be 
happy  out  of  his  own  province,  so  I  had  perforce 
to  find  another  man.  I  have  engaged  for  the 
rest  of  my  journey  a  boy  of  twenty-three  or  so 
who  enlisted  some  years  ago  in  the  gendarmerie 
and  disliked  it  so  much  that  he  shot  himself  in 
the  hand  to  obtain  his  discharge.  The  only  other 
recommendation  he  had  was  from  some  one  who 
took  him  on  as  cook  and  dismissed  him  for 
exorbitant  accounts  of  expenditure  after  a  fort- 
night. He  is  a  capable  fellow  and  hasn't  broken 
out  with  me  so  far,  so  perhaps  his  wild  oats  have 
been  sown. 

From  Teheran  to  Kazvin  I  had  an  energetic 
travelling  companion  who  made  the  short  journey 
anything  but  tedious.  We  were  delayed  repeat- 
edly by  jaded  horses,  and  at  one  point  where  the 
driver  halted  to  refresh  himself  and  the  animals 
within  an  hour  of  our  next  stage,  my  friend  lost 
his  patience,  mounted  to  the  driver's  seat,  used 
the  whip  and  the  reins  till  his  hands  were  blistered, 
shouted  and  swore  till  his  voice  was  hoarse,  and 
brought  us  in  triumph  to  our  stage  in  the  small 
hours  of  night,  while  the  wretched  little  driver  was 
left  to  follow  on  foot  with  his  post-boy's  saddle 
over  his  arm.  At  another  point  where  we  halted 
at  lunch  time  a  Russian  orderly  took  us  to  a  good 
room,  gave  us  tumblers  of  tea  and  fresh  white 
bread,    and   entertained    us  with  stories  of  the 


192  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

taking  of  Erzerum,  at  which  he  had  been  present. 
The  lad  had  received  four  or  five  shrapnel  wounds 
in  the  course  of  his  campaigning,  and  had  some- 
thing to  tell  of  hardships,  but  he  was  very  cheerful 
and  active  in  spite  of  it  all. 

At  Kazvin  I  engaged  a  fresh  post-carriage  for 
Hamadan,  and  started  off  again  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  8th,  arriving  here  on  the  10th  after  forty-four 
hours'  travelling.     The  road  is  a  good  metalled  one 
throughout,  though  its  surface  has  been  loosened 
by  traffic  and   drought.     I    was   provided  with 
papers    of    introduction    from    our    attache    at 
Teheran  and  from  the  Russian  consul  at  Kazvin, 
but  found  no  use  for  them,  as  the  only  Russians  I 
spoke  with  were  some  soldiers  at  the  hot  springs 
beyond  the  third  stage,  who  were  waiting  their 
turn,  like  myself,  for  a  bathe  in  the  little  covered 
tank  in  the  rock  through  which  the  hot  water 
comes  bubbling  up.     The  people  at  the  posting- 
stations,  as  we  approached  the  Hamadan  district, 
spoke  Turki  amongst  themselves  and  had  very 
little  knowledge  of  Persian.     At  the  second  stage 
out  we  reached  the  north-western  corner  of  the 
great  plain  on  the  edge  of  which  lie  Kazvin  and 
Teheran,  and  thereafter  we  rose  into  cooler  hill- 
country.     As  we  drew  near  Hamadan  the  valleys 
and  villages  had  an  increasing  air  of  fertility  and 
prosperity,  and  for  the  last  three  stages  1  rested 
my  eyes  at   more  frequent  intervals  on  smiling 
fields  and  gardens. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  193 

Some  fifteen  miles  from  town  my  carriage 
passed  a  zigzag  line  of  trenches  intersecting  the 
roadway.  They  marked  the  limit  of  the  Turkish 
advance  in  August  1916,  after  which  time 
Hamadan  remained  in  Turkish  hands  until  the 
fall  of  Kut  el  Amara  and  our  advance  on  Baghdad 
in  early  March  1917.  (The  advance  towards 
Teheran  by  the  Persian  gendarmerie  and  Kurdish 
and  other  irregulars  in  March  1915  got  as  far  as 
Aveh,  four  stages  west  of  Kazvin  on  this  same  road, 
where  they  were  met  by  the  main  Russian  forces.) 
On  my  way  from  Kazvin  to  Hamadan  I  passed  a 
certain  amount  of  ambulance  and  supply  trans- 
port, and  a  few  parties  of  troops,  but  not  till  I  saw 
those  trenches  near  the  town  did  I  realise  that  I 
was  on  the  verge  of  an  actual  and  recent  scene  of 
war.  There  was  in  that  realisation  something  of 
the  elation  of  the  archaeologist,  uplifted  by  the 
communicative  virtues  of  the  visible  symbols  of 
past  greatness  :  there  was  more  of  the  pilgrim's 
wondering  pride,  the  sense  of  privilege ;  for  here, 
indeed,  was  holy  ground,  in  direct  kinship,  how- 
ever humble,  with  the  glorious  fields  of  France,  and 
alike  consecrated  to  a  cause  that  is  older  than  man. 
Yet  as  I  entered  Hamadan  I  reflected  that  this 
was  no  mere  scene  of  half-forgotten  martyrdom, 
where  the  pilgrim,  in  the  joy  of  arrival  and 
shadowy  attainment,  kisses  the  tomb  and  goes 
his  way  again  :  rather  I  had  reached  but  the 
portico  of  the  theatre,  and  within,  behind  those 

N 


194  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

doors  ahead  of  me,  the  play  was  still  upon  the 
stage. 

The  town  of  Hamadan  stands  on  the  edge  of  a 
comparatively  well-watered  plain  over  6000  feet 
above  sea-level,  which  I  may  remind  you  is  much 
higher  than  the  highest  mountain  in  Britain. 
Behind  it  to  the  west  the  ground  rises  without  a 
break  to  a  great  range  of  mountains  across  which 
runs  the  road  to  Kermanshah.  The  peaks  of 
Alvand,  over  12,000  feet  high,  are  only  three  or 
four  miles  distant  from  the  narrow  and  tortuous 
ways  of  the  Hamadan  bazaars,  where  Persian, 
Turk  and  Kurd,  Jew  and  Armenian  pit  themselves 
and  their  varieties  of  cunning  against  each  other  in 
the  business  of  buying  and  selling.  The  lower 
slopes,  and  the  plain  itself,  are  dotted  with  villages 
buried  in  groves  and  gardens  of  poplar  and  willow 
and  fruit  trees.  Most  of  the  summer  crops  have 
already  been  harvested,  but  here  and  there  the 
yellow  wheat  is  still  standing,  and  the  grape  in 
the  walled  vineyards  is  not  yet  ripe. 

The  house  where  I  am  hospitably  lodged  during 
my  sojourn  in  Hamadan  was  occupied  throughout 
last  autumn  and  winter  by  Ali  Ihsan  Bey,  the 
Turkish  commander.  My  present  host  left  it  at 
three  o'clock  in  the  morning  of  the  9th  of  August 
1916,  after  removing  what  valuables  he  could,  and 
thirteen  hours  later  the  Turks  were  in  possession 
of  the  town,  which  the  Russians  re-entered  on  the 
2nd  of  March  of  this  year.     When  the  Russians 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  195 

and  the  British  residents  evacuated  Hamadan  in 
August  they  left  behind  them  a  few  members  of 
the  American  Presbyterian  Mission,  who  re- 
mained here  as  neutral  subjects  throughout  the 
period  of  Turkish  occupation.  These  missionaries, 
and  the  townspeople  themselves,  have  retained, 
on  the  whole,  a  favourable  impression  of  the  be- 
haviour of  the  Turkish  troops,  who  destroyed  or 
took  away  with  them  of  European  civilian  pro- 
perty only  what  military  necessities  dictated  ; 
the  cutting- down  of  much  valuable  timber,  for 
instance,  is  excused  by  the  severity  of  the  winter 
at  this  altitude.  The  baneful  German  influence 
was  more  or  less  absent,  as  it  appears  that  with 
the  exception  of  a  score  of  subordinate  officers 
there  were  no  Germans  with  the  Turkish  troops, 
who  openly  declared  their  dislike  of  Teutonic 
domination. 

A  few  days  ago  we  took  tea  at  the  Russian 
headquarters,  where  the  commander-in-chief  sat 
at  one  end  of  the  long  mess  table,  with  a  priest  at 
the  other  end  and  a  number  of  officers  on  either 
side.  General  B.  is  a  Cossack  officer  of  middle 
height,  with  an  air  of  impregnable  health  and 
inexhaustible  energy  which  report  confirms.  The 
only  wrinkles  on  his  handsome  face  are  at  the 
corners  of  his  eyes,  where  he  smiles.  He  is  noted 
for  felicitous  speech-making  and  for  inspiring 
vigour  and  confidence  in  his  men.  The  Cossacks, 
by   the    way,    appear   to    have    preserved   their 


196  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

military  spirit  and  their  loyalty  to  their  officers 
undamped  by  the  revolution,  and  they  provide 
an  invaluable  stiffening  to  the  forces  which  are 
now  north  and  west  of  this  base. 

The  inhabitants  of  this  town  of  neutral  Persia 
seem  to  have  suffered  little  from  their  experience 
of  warfare  and  successive  occupation  by  oppos- 
ing armies.  When  the  Turks  entered,  their 
commander  spoke  in  person  from  the  pulpit  of 
the  principal  mosque,  and  announced  that  as 
Hamadan  was  now  Turkish  territory  the  people 
must  respect  and  even  follow  the  Sunni  ritual 
and  observances  of  their  brother  Mohammedans. 
The  order  was  obeyed  in  public,  and  the  people 
welcomed  the  conquerors  with  presents.  As 
time  passed  the  Turks  became  less  friendly.  The 
local  capitalists  were  eased  of  part  of  their  wealth 
by  tactful  methods,  and  Turkish  notes  were  forced 
on  the  bazaar  at  a  fictitiously  high  rate  of  exchange 
for  Persian  money.  The  Turks  introduced  Per- 
sian coin  minted  by  our  enemies,  and  it  is  said  that 
they  were  on  the  point  of  redeeming  with  loc^l 
currency  the  Turkish  gold  disbursed  by  them, 
when  they  were  forced  to  fly.  The  astute  local 
traders,  nevertheless,  have  contrived  in  many 
cases  to  amass  fortunes,  particularly  since  the 
return  of  the  Russians,  though  the  continued 
depreciation  of  Russian  paper  money  means  heavy 
loss  to  holders  of  this  doubtful  form  of  wealth. 
The  rouble  note,  now  at  a  fifth  of  its  value  in 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  197 

peace  time,  is  exchanged  for  coin  by  the  British 
bank  and  by  Jewish  and  Persian  petty  financiers, 
not  to  mention  the  branch  of  the  Russian  bank 
itself. 

At  present  the  townspeople  are  suffering  from 
nocturnal  robberies  more  than  from  anything  else. 
Every  night  since  my  arrival  I  have  heard  shots 
fired  in  the  town  or  in  our  own  neighbourhood, 
and  always  in  the  morning  one  is  regaled  with 
widely-varying  stories  of  the  adventure  which 
befell  some  unfortunate  householder  or  belated 
pedestrian.  Little  or  no  attempt  is  made  to  catch 
and  punish  these  armed  robbers,  and  the  sport,  in 
consequence,  is  becoming  increasingly  popular 
with  malcontents  and  bad  characters,  whose  only 
stock-in-trade  is  a  revolver  and  a  grievance. 

I  hope  to  move  on  in  a  week  or  two,  so  I  have 
been  doing  the  sights  of  Hamadan.  One  of  them 
is  a  mound  overlooking  the  town,  on  which  are 
remains  of  an  ancient  citadel.  Another  is  a  lion 
couchant,  of  colossal  size,  which  guards  an  emi- 
nence on  the  outskirts  to  the  south-east.  The  figure 
has  been  well  chiselled,  but  snow  and  rain  have 
played  for  so  long  on  its  soft  sandstone  that  the 
detail  has  been  worn  away  and  the  poor  animal 
is  pitted  with  big  rain-holes  along  his  back.  The 
face  is  worn  almost  smooth,  but  the  lion's  present 
claim  to  distinction  lies  thereon,  for  while  the  rest 
of  its  body  and  the  surrounding  earth  may  be  ab- 
solutely dry,  its  face  is  always  wet  and  oleaginous. 


198  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

The  affection  is  no  mere  chronic  catarrh,  but 
rather  a  perpetual  perspiration  which  commences 
as  high  as  the  forehead.  The  cause  of  it  I  might 
leave  to  geologists  and  mystics  to  settle  between 
them,  but,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  appears  to 
concern  neither.  The  lion's  face  is  said  to  be 
rubbed  with  oil  by  women  of  the  neighbourhood 
whose  married  life  has  not  borne  fruit. 

Another  of  the  sights  is  the  reputed  tombs  of 
Esther  and  Mordecai,  enshrined  in  the  centre  of 
the  town  within  a  domed  building  of  economical 
proportions,  the  entrance  to  which  is  by  a  small 
and  very  heavy  stone  door  of  the  type  used  in 
many  an  old  fort.  The  guardian  of  this  place  of 
pilgrimage  is  an  aged  Jew,  who  will  show  you  the 
carved  and  inscribed  walnut  cenotaphs  of  Xerxes' 
Jewish  queen  and  her  scheming  uncle,  and  will 
point  out  to  you  the  place  overhead  where  hung 
the  crown  of  Esther  till  it  was  stolen  a  little  while 
ago — some  say  by  the  custodian  himself.  The  old 
man  lifts  a  circular  stone  in  the  floor  between  the 
two  cenotaphs,  and  you  see  below  a  wick  light 
which  is  kept  ever  burning,  like  the  Zoroastrian 
fire.  You  may  peer  through  this  man-hole,  or 
even  go  down  it  if  you  like,  and  speculate  on  what 
lies  there  in  the  dim  light. 

Elsewhere,  by  the  river's  edge  in  a  mean 
quarter  of  the  town,  is  the  tomb  of  Abu  Ali, 
known  to  Renaissance  Europe  and  to  ourselves  as 
Avicenna,  the  great  philosopher  and  doctor  of 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  199 

medicine  who  lived  and  wrote  in  Bukhara  and  in 
Persia  proper  nine  hundred  years  ago,  under  the 
patronage  of  successive  and  rival  princes  who  gave 
him  no  peace  till,  like  many  an  honest  fellow  of 
those  days,  he  died  of  good  living.  His  tomb  is 
fitly  guarded  by  an  unkempt  and  ragged  dervish, 
and  is  a  haunt  of  that  fraternity.  The  stone 
cenotaph  of  Avicenna  lies  by  that  of  his  beloved 
master,  within  a  railed-off  area  in  a  little  room 
which  the  Turks  (be  it  said  in  their  favour)  re- 
floored  with  tiles  during  their  occupation  of  Hama- 
dan  last  winter.  The  little  garden  in  front  of  the 
simple  building  is  planted  with  trees  and  flowers. 

Kermanshah,  I6tk  August  1917. 

Dear  M., — I  left  Hamadan  on  the  morning  of 
the  9th,  and  got  here  on  the  afternoon  of  the  11th. 
There  is  no  post  service  of  horses,  so  I  hired  a 
droshky  with  three  horses  for  the  price  of  twenty 
pounds,  to  take  myself  and  my  servant  and  as 
much  baggage  as  it  would  hold.  We  started  at 
eight  o'clock,  and  rattled  over  the  cobbles  through 
the  to^vn  and  by  a  stony  road  along  the  edge  of 
the  plain,  making  for  the  Asadabad  pass,  which 
we  reached  about  midday.  A  short  halt  re- 
freshed the  animals  and  ourselves,  and  then  up 
we  went  by  a  zigzag  course,  and  down  the  other 
side,  stopping  for  tea  at  a  pleasant  stream  above 
Asadabad,  where  the  smell  of  opium  from  the 
coffee-shop  alongside  added  itself  to  the  flavour 


200  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

of  my  biscuits.  Asadabad  we  reached  at  six 
o'clock,  and  at  half-past  seven  we  drew  up  for  the 
night  in  the  same  plain  at  a  small  village  called 
Nusratabad,  beyond  which  the  horses  could  not 
go.  There  I  was  lodged  on  the  broad  roof  of  a 
serai,  where  I  dined  and  slept.  Off  again  at  four- 
thirty,  with  a  pause  for  a  glass  of  tea  at  six,  and  a 
stop  at  Kangavar  for  breakfast  between  eight  and 
ten  o'clock  :  on  by  a  second  long  pass  to  Sahneh, 
with  a  line  of  trenches  at  one  spot  on  the  east  side 
of  the  pass  and  the  great  rock  mass  of  Bisitun 
confronting  us  in  the  distance  as  we  made  the 
descent. 

The  limestone  range  which  runs  right  away  to 
the  Kermanshah  plain  starts  abruptly  from  the 
earth  at  Bisitun.  As  seen  from  above  Sahneh  the 
mountain,  with  a  nearer  peak  thrown  against  it, 
assumes  the  contours  of  a  recumbent  human 
figure,  with  the  face  upwards  and  the  knees  raised. 
At  its  feet  is  a  stretch  of  level  land  through 
which  a  river  runs.  From  the  knees  to  the  feet  of 
the  figure  is  a  steep  drop  of  some  thousands  of 
feet,  and  on  the  ankles,  as  it  were,  are  the  bas- 
reliefs  and  engraved  records  of  Darius  the  Great. 
It  is  a  fit  but  daring  spot  for  the  memorial  tablets 
of  Persia's  greatest  king,  and  the  sublime  aspect 
of  nature's  work,  with  its  startlingly  human  sug- 
gestion as  seen  from  above  Sahneh,  affects  the 
imagination,  as  I  found,  more  than  the  famous 
figures  of  the  king  and  his  king-captives,  and  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  201 

recital  of  his  achievements,  that  were  laboriously 
scratched  within  a  cleft  above  the  mountain's 
base  a  matter  of  two  thousand  five  hundred  years 
ago.  Yet  it  was  the  thought  of  those  inscriptions, 
and  the  hope  of  a  pleasant  camping-ground,  that 
impelled  me  on  from  the  village  of  Sahneh,  where 
normally  we  should  have  spent  the  night. 

We  drove  on  accordingly  at  six  o'clock,  and  at 
eight  o'clock  we  were  rolling  in  the  gathering 
darkness  along  the  sandy,  dusty  track  with  the 
mountain  mass  looming  ahead  of  us  apparently 
within  half  an  hour's  distance.  Half- past  eight, 
nine  o'clock,  and  half-past  nine  found  us  still 
following  a  straight  line  for  our  goal,  which 
seemed  no  nearer.  The  horses  were  tired,  the 
going  was  heavy,  and  the  driver  lost  the  main 
track  and  found  himself  more  than  once  at  a  loose 
end  in  the  scrub.  We  passed  two  or  three  ham- 
lets, from  which  came  not  a  sign  or  sound  of  life, 
the  inhabitants  having  fled  within  the  past  year 
from  the  ravages  of  warring  troops.  Eventually 
we  skirted  a  hill,  threaded  our  way  among  boul- 
ders, jolted  over  a  cobble-paved  bridge  guarded  by 
Russian  sentries,  made  towards  the  sound  of 
barking  dogs  that  indicated  the  village,  and  woke 
the  sleeping  population  at  the  hour  of  ten-thirty 
to  demand  a  night's  lodging. 

My  hopes  of  a  pleasant  camping-ground  by 
a  clear  spring  were  rudely  dashed,  and  I  had 
perforce  to  accept  what  offered  in  a  caravanserai 


202  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

full  of  wagons  and  mules  and  loads  and  sleeping 
muleteers.  '  Put  me  on  a  roof,'  I  said  to  the 
keeper  of  the  serai,  '  where  I  shall  be  freer  of 
sandflies  and  other  insects.'  '  The  sahib  would 
escape  the  noise  and  the  crowding,'  said  my  ser- 
vant. '  The  sahib  wants  to  wake  up  in  the 
morning  and  see  the  mountain  in  front  of  him,' 
said  my  intelligent  droshkychi.  '  WuUah,'  said 
the  keeper  of  the  serai,  '  you  can  see  for  yourself 
that  the  rooms  are  uninhabitable.  The  roof  is 
damaged  and  there  is  no  proper  approach  to  it. 
The  soldiers  have  left  no  timbers  anywhere.' 
'  Then,'  said  I,  '  remove  that  old  opium-smoker 
with  the  crutches,  and  bring  a  broom  and  clean 
the  floor  of  this  platform  by  the  doorway,  and  we 
will  make  shift.'  My  bed  was  put  out,  and  I 
dined  on  patties  and  cold  joint  and  native  bread, 
and  went  promptly  to  sleep  in  my  clothes  with 
a  towel  over  my  face  and  hands,  and  with  mules 
munching  and  muleteers  snoring  a  couple  of 
yards  off.  The  Russians  were  in  occupation  of 
a  good  big  serai  a  stone-throw  away,  but  I  had 
had  no  mind  to  disturb  them  at  that  hour,  and  the 
horses  were  better  where  they  were. 

I  slept  comfortably,  and  woke  after  dawn  to 
find  the  caravan  gone  and  the  place  deserted  and 
silent.  My  morning  cup  of  tea  was  soon  ready, 
and  after  a  wash  I  went  with  a  villager  to  view 
the  records  of  the  Great  King  who  ruled  from 
Thrace  to  Central  Asia,  from  Egypt  to  the  Indus. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  203 

They  are  wonderful  in  truth,  these  records,  but 
httle  enough  to  gaze  upon  in  sober  everyday 
sense,  and  unsuited  in  most  respects  for  com- 
parison with  the  astounding  architectural  and 
sculptural  glories  of  Persepolis,  where  Darius 
and  his  heirs  kept  state  in  the  days  of  Persia's 
greatness.  My  disappointment  was  keen,  but  no 
keener,  perhaps,  than  what  I  felt  on  my  return 
to  the  village  when  my  servant  told  me  he  could 
get  no  eggs  for  breakfast.  Could  the  irreverent 
importunity  of  mere  appetite  go  further  ?  Yet 
I  have  seen  good  folks  at  home  eating  buns  in  a 
cathedral  they  had  come  far  to  visit. 

I  now  discovered  that  the  '  old  opium-smoker 
with  the  crutches,'  who  had  painfully  made  way 
for  me  overnight,  was  a  young  villager  who  had 
been  bitten  in  the  foot  a  month  before  by  a  snake. 
The  poor  fellow's  foot  was  in  a  bad  way,  but  he 
bore  his  trouble  well,  and  I  was  glad  to  make  some 
practical  amends  for  having  disturbed  him  and 
mistaken  his  character  in  the  dark.  It  is  dis- 
tressing to  the  traveller  in  a  country  like  this,  to 
be  appealed  to  by  victims  of  accident  or  disease 
and  to  be  unable  to  help  them  with  skilled  treat- 
ment or  advice.  I  was  relieved  therefore  to  learn 
that  this  man  was  being  treated  by  a  Russian 
army  surgeon  t'^mporarily  stationed  on  the  spot. 

We  left  Bisitun  at  eight  o'clock,  paused  an  hour 
later  at  Hajiabad  (where  half  a  dozen  donkey-men 
were  seated  round  a  spring  breakfasting  on  stale 


204  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

barley  bread  steeped  in  water),  and  pulled  up 
about  ten-thirty  at  a  spacious  coffee-shop  where 
breakfast  was  obtainable  on  rather  more  sump- 
tuous lines.  The  serving-lad  took  me  on  to  the 
roof  and  showed  me  the  town  of  Kermanshah, 
eight  miles  away,  running  in  a  long  line  from 
the  plain  up  to  the  hills.  The  upper  end  was  all 
gardens  and  tall  trees.  '  That  is  Dil-Gusha  at 
the  top,'  he  explained :  '  the  British  consul  and 
the  British  bank  manager  live  between  there  and 
the  town.'  '  Bah  bah  !  '  said  I,  '  it  is  well  named 
Heart-Expanding.  And  what  a  fine  fertile  plain 
you  have  !  '  '  Yes,  and  along  that  southern  hill- 
side there  are  a  few  more  little  villages  hidden.' 
*  But  where  are  the  flocks  ?  '  '  There  are  some,' 
he  answered,  pointing  to  several  hundred  sheep 
and  goats  grazing  towards  the  northern  range. 
'  There  are  fewer  now  than  there  used  to  be. 
The  Russians  eat  them  all.'  '  And  is  there  game 
in  the  hills  ?  '  '  Yes,  yes,  there  are  wild  sheep 
and  ibex.  You  can  see  them  sometimes  from 
here  even.  The  men  say  they  have  seen  them. 
But  there  are  many  robbers  in  the  mountains.' 

I  continued  my  journey  after  midday  over  the 
fiat  and  dusty  road,  across  the  bridge  of  the 
Karasu  river,  and  up  past  the  to^vn  and  into  the 
garden  quarter.  Kermanshah,  my  journey's  end, 
lay  clustered  on  and  around  a  hill  that  rose  from 
the  opening  of  the  valley.  The  town  mass  on  the 
little  hill  reminded  me  of  Birjand.     The  fertile 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  205 

plain  below  and  beyond  it  reminded  me  of  Isfahan. 
The  valley  of  which  we  were  climbing  the  eastern 
slope  looked  fair  and  promising. 

My  dusty  carriage  rumbled  past  a  pair  of 
broken-down  gate  pillars,  along  an  avenue  of 
young  poplars  with  a  stubble-field  on  the  left  and 
some  acres  of  melons  and  lucerne  on  the  right, 
through  an  attractive  gateway  with  the  Union 
Jack  over  it  and  a  few  Persian  soldiers  on  guard, 
and  up  a  sloping,  curving  drive  to  a  solid-looking 
bungalow  of  white  brick,  where  it  deposited  my 
dusty  self  on  a  gravel  front  among  beds  of  sun- 
flowers and  marigolds  and  asters  and  cosmos. 

Kermanshah,  21*^  October  1917. 

Dear  M., — Your  letters  are  still  coming  through 
Russia— very  irregularly,  of  course,  and  much 
belated,  as  the  state  of  that  country  grows  more 
and  more  disturbed.  I  have  had  only  two  or 
three  mails  since  I  wrote  you  a  couple  of  months 
ago.  The  consul  has  arranged  for  his  mail  bag 
to  be  sent  up  from  Basra  across  country  through 
Pushtikuh  by  foot  messenger  or  on  mule-back 
about  every  ten  days,  so  if  you  address  your 
letters  care  of  the  political  officer  at  Ali  Gharbi, 
Mesopotamia,  they  will  come  up  with  his — 
perhaps. 

Kermanshah  is  a  pleasant  spot,  three  or  four 
times  as  big  as  Birjand,  and  much  more  interest- 
ing in  many  ways,  though  I  miss  the  congenial 


206  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

friendliness  of  the  simple  folk  in  that  quiet  back- 
water. The  townspeople  here  are  mainly  of  the 
blood  of  the  Kurds,  a  race  of  tribes  quite  foreign 
to  the  Aryan  types  of  Central  Persia.  The  Kurd 
is  a  fine  fellow  in  his  native  hills,  but  his  town 
cousin  is  an  unhealthy-looking  person  suggestive 
of  licence  and  impurity.  The  sharp-featured 
women  are  too  sallow  to  be  beautiful  :  the  broad 
skulls,  high  cheek-bones,  and  olive  eyes  of  the  men 
are  finished  off  in  too  soft-mouthed  and  womanish 
a  fashion  to  be  handsome.  They  dress  in  dark 
colours  and  are  partial  to  loose  garments  and 
baggy  trousers.  The  men's  black  felt  headgear 
would  make  a  sensation  at  a  Covent  Garden  or 
Chelsea  ball  :  it  is  fiat  and  circular  on  top,  con- 
cave all  round  the  sides,  and  very,  very  large. 
There  are  about  a  thousand  Sunnis  in  the  town,  the 
rest  of  its  sixty  thousand  inhabitants  being  Shi'eh 
Mohammedans,  with  the  exception  of  some  fifteen 
hundred  Jews.  There  are  half  a  dozen  families 
of  Chaldeans  and  one  or  two  Armenians.  The 
present  acting-governor  is  a  Jew  converted  to 
Islam.  The  chief  customs  officer  is  a  Belgian  : 
the  chief  revenue  officer  is  a  member  of  a  local 
family  of  princelings — a  man  who  is  no  more 
conspicuous  for  honesty  than  is  the  average 
member  of  the  official  classes. 

The  town  has  been  of  military  interest  and 
importance  to  us  since  Turkey  entered  the  war. 
From  the  first  it  was   the  point  of   entrj^  for 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  207 

German  emissaries  to  Persia  and  Afghanistan. 
The  enemy  opened  his  eastward  movement  by  a 
few  bars  of  friendly  intercourse  with  the  Kurdish 
chiefs  on  the  frontier.  The  chiefs  discovered  a 
new  means  of  getting  money  easily  and  quickly, 
and  the  German  emissaries  sowed  the  seeds  of 
hostility  to  us  and  the  Russians  while  our  political 
representatives  were  asleep  round  the  corner. 
The  first-fruits  of  this  policy  were  seen  in  mid- 
April  1915,  when  the  British  bank  was  closed  and 
the  staff  left  for  Hamadan.  In  August  1915  the 
European  colony,  escorted  by  forty-five  Russian 
and  Persian  Cossacks,  attempted  to  return,  but 
their  road  was  barred  half-way  by  one  Schune- 
mann  with  a  bobbery  pack  of  four  hundred  men 
and  two  machine-guns,  and  the  attempt  was  not 
pressed.  On  23rd  February  1916  the  Turks  and 
their  Persian  supporters  were  defeated  by  the 
Russians  at  Bid-i-Surkh,  and  Kermanshah  was 
entered  immediately  afterwards.  The  bank  was 
opened  again  on  6th  March,  only  to  be  closed  for 
the  second  time  on  28th  June,  the  Russian  troops 
retiring  before  a  superior  force  of  Turks  who 
entered  the  town  on  ]st  July.  The  Turks 
remained  in  occupation  till  11th  March  1917,  and 
on  the  day  that  the  British  entered  Baghdad 
the  Russians  entered  Kermanshah,  hot  (but  not 
so  hot)  on  the  heels  of  the  flying  enemy. 

Throughout  these  two  years  the  local  repre- 
sentatives of  the  American  Presbyterian  Mission 


208  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

(Mr.  and  Mrs.  Stead)  remained  at  their  post,  act- 
ing the  difficult  but  appropriate  part  of  benevolent 
neutrals.  They  were  barely  quit  of  the  Turk  for 
good  and  all  when  America  entered  the  war,  and 
our  friends  gave  up  their  role  of  benevolent 
neutrality  for  that  of  active  co-operation  within 
the  spirit  of  their  calling. 

There  is  now  a  considerable  force  of  Russian  in- 
fantry and  Cossacks  holding  Kermanshah.  Many 
of  them  are  camped  outside,  but  the  majority 
occupy  houses  from  which  the  Persian  owners 
or  tenants  have  been  ejected.  These  troops  are 
less  feared  than  they  were,  and  much  less  re- 
spected, their  daily  and  nightly  relations  with  the 
townspeople  being  the  occasion  of  much  friction 
and  some  disorder.  Soldiers'  and  Workmen's 
delegates  have  sown  their  seeds  of  anarchy 
amongst  the  men,  and  committees  are  busy  with 
revolutionary  and  subversive  propaganda.  The 
heart  of  the  army,  here  as  elsewhere,  is  gone :  it 
is  merely  a  thing  of  legs  and  arms  and  hungry 
mouths,  and  can  hardly  be  called  a  fighting  force. 
The  one  bright  spot  in  this  dull  disarray  is  the 
Partisans'  Detachment — a  small  mixed  legion  of 
men  who  have  volunteered  to  support  the  Alliance 
and  to  continue  the  fight  by  the  side  and  with 
the  aid  of  the  British.  Their  leader.  Colonel 
Bicherakof,  is  an  attractive  character  to  an 
Englishman — a  fighting  Cossack  of  magnetic 
personality.     His  band  of  desperadoes  gave  us 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  209 

recently  a  display  of  trick-riding,  in  which  the  Cos- 
sack, who  is  born  and  bred  to  the  saddle,  excels. 

Needless  to  say,  the  question  of  supplies  is  a 
difficult  one  with  our  Russian  friends,  whose  army 
service  corps  has  no  great  reputation  for  honesty. 
Drought  and  the  war  have  raised  the  price  of 
bread  here  to  three  times  its  normal  value  in  local 
currency,  fodder  and  other  necessaries  are  equally 
costly  and  scarce,  and  the  native  is  driven  to 
outcry  when  he  sees  his  available  foodstuffs  being 
eaten  or  bought  up  by  alien  soldiers  with  large 
appetites.  In  addition  to  this  the  Russian  has 
hitherto  persisted  in  financing  his  requirements 
in  northern  Persia  by  flooding  the  country  with 
rouble  notes  which  nobody  wants  and  which  have 
lost  more  and  more  of  their  exchange  value.  In 
future,  however,  the  British  bank  will  provide 
silver  for  these  requirements  and  receive  the 
equivalent  in  sterling  in  London  at  a  rate  of 
exchange  more  favourable  to  Russia.  Meanwhile, 
the  Russians,  with  all  their  troops,  have  re- 
peatedly been  compelled  to  purchase  grain  from 
the  Persians  with  the  assistance  of  the  British, 
who  have  no  troops  here  at  all. 

We  have  no  troops  here,  certainly,  but  the 
Persian  likes  us  all  the  better  for  that ;  and  he 
knows,  moreover,  that  we  are  round  the  corner 
at  Baghdad,  which  knowledge  is  quite  enough  for 
him  to  go  on  with.  We  have,  however,  two 
Imperial  units   attached   to   the   Russian  head- 

o 


210  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

quarters  here — an  Anzac  wireless  station  and  a 
British- Indian  survey  party.  The  former  num- 
bers a  score  of  men  with  two  officers,  and  it  is 
thanks  to  them  that  we  get  Reuter's  news  daily 
hot  from  Basra.  Both  parties  arrived  from 
Mesopotamia  in  June  1917.  The  surveyors  are 
busy  map-making,  and  their  work  appears  to  be  a 
great  improvement  on  any  maps  possessed  by  the 
Russians.  Our  noble  Allies,  however,  with  minds 
made  morbid  by  failure,  privately  suspect  the 
survey  party  of  representing  not  the  con- 
siderate generosity,  but  the  ulterior  designs,  of 
the  British. 

The  Russian  Red  Cross  has  now  closed  its  local 
hospital,  but  the  Russian  Land  Association  has  two 
hospitals  manned  by  women  doctors  and  nurses, 
male  orderlies,  and  one  or  two  surgeons.  They 
have  no  wounded,  but  the  numbers  of  sick  are 
astonishing,  and  there  is  a  large  proportion  of 
malaria  and  typhus  cases  side  by  side  in  the  same 
congested  wards.  The  hospitals  are  not  over- well 
run,  and  the  beds  contain  a  few  malingerers  ;  but 
the  ladies  in  charge  deserve  great  praise  for  their 
consistent  pluck  and  energy  and  cheerfulness. 
Two  or  three  of  them  have  sacrificed  much  social 
position  and  welfare  to  their  enterprise,  and  all 
of  them  are  in  distressing  doubt  as  to  the  fate  of 
their  families  and  their  possessions  ;  yet  they 
maintain,  under  these  depressing  conditions,  a 
practical  and  robust  outlook  which  is  in  strange 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  211 

contrast  to  the  mental  attitude  of  officers  and 
men  of  the  army.  The  hospitals  have  organised 
occasional  theatrical  performances  as  an  enter- 
tainment for  the  soldiers,  and  to  one  of  these  we 
went  the  other  evening.  I  came  away  from  the 
crowded  garden  with  my  senses  echoing  much 
stage  singing  and  dancing  and  drunkenness  and 
murder,  and  with  a  general  impression  of  good 
and  spirited  acting. 

Also  I  have  been  to  a  Persian  play — a  product 
of  modernity  brought  out  by  the  democrats  in 
aid  of  some  educational  scheme.  One  or  two  of 
the  actors  had  come  from  Teheran,  but  the  rest 
were  locally- produced  amateurs,  including  a  couple 
of  Chaldeans.  The  play  commenced  about  nine 
o'clock  and  went  on  till  after  midnight.  It  was 
a  representation  of  life  in  a  provincial  town  some 
years  back,  centring  round  a  pleasure-loving, 
stupid,  ignorant,  idle  and  thoughtlessly  tyrannical 
governor  and  his  rapacious  and  hypocritical 
satellites,  with  a  sidelight  on  the  superstitious 
credulity  of  a  family  of  oppressed  villagers,  the 
greed  of  the  tax-collector,  and  the  ruthlessness 
of  an  unfeeling  village  headman.  The  whole 
thing  was  a  satire  on  the  old  types  and  manners 
and  the  old  system,  which  persist  largely  in  the 
present  day  :  it  was  exaggerated  and  overdone, 
perhaps,  but  it  contained  many  telling  points,  and 
was  remarkably  well  acted. 


212  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Kermanshah,  20^^  December  1917. 

Dear  M., — I  have  had  another  interesting  jaunt 
since  I  wrote  you  last,  and  have  seen  some  more 
new  country.  On  the  2nd  of  November  I  had  an 
urgent  call  to  Sultanabad,  which  is  a  small  town 
of  recent  growth  in  the  centre  of  Persia  between 
Hamadan  and  Isfahan.  I  had  been  warned  of 
such  a  contingency  and  had  just  arranged  with 
the  lady  doctor  in  charge  of  one  of  the  Russian 
hospitals  for  a  passage  by  car  to  Hamadan,  so  on 
the  following  afternoon  I  left  with  a  suit-case  in  a 
touring  Ford  with  two  other  passengers.  The 
good  lady,  blinking  benediction  through  her 
glasses,  whispered  to  me  as  she  saw  me  off  to 
make  friends  with  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  car, 
who  might  send  it  on  with  me  from  Hamadan 
to  my  journey's  end  —  another  eighty  miles 
or  so. 

We  spent  the  night  at  Sahneh  sleeping  four  in  a 
small  room,  and  reached  Hamadan  the  following 
afternoon.  I  left  again  next  morning  at  eleven 
with  the  same  car,  and  found  myself  at  six  o'clock, 
after  three  punctures,  belated  with  differential 
trouble  at  a  village  within  an  hour  and  a  half's  run 
of  my  destination.  The  headlights  were  working 
badly  and  the  road  was  unknown  to  us,  so  I 
passed  the  night  in  a  room  at  the  house  of  the 
village  headman,  where  we  thawed  our  frozen 
limbs  at  a  big  wood  fire  and  in  due  course  thawed 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  213 

and  comforted  our  interiors  with  an  excellent  and 
varied  meal. 

Next  morning  the  frozen  car  needed  a  couple  of 
hours'  coaxing  before  it  would  start,  but  event- 
ually we  arrived  before  midday  at  Sultanabad, 
where  I  was  welcomed  by  an  old  friend  who  made 
me  his  guest  during  the  five  weeks  of  my  stay. 
The  town  lies  at  the  mouth  of  a  valley,  on  the  fiat 
edge  of  a  huge  level  plain  which  stands  6000  feet 
above  sea-level.  The  climate  is  cool  and  pleasant, 
though  the  natives  give  it  a  doubtful  reputation 
on  account  of  a  marsh  some  miles  away.  The 
houses  are  new,  and  the  streets  are  straight  and 
comparatively  broad.  The  familiar  poplar  is 
well  in  evidence,  and  the  outskirts  are  laid  out  with 
flourishing  vineyards,  Sultanabad  grapes  and 
raisins  being  of  particularly  good  quality.  The 
district  is  an  agricultural  one,  and  supplies  wheat 
and  barley  to  the  capital.  It  is  also  an  important 
centre  for  the  weaving  of  carpets,  most  of  which 
are  exported  to  Europe  and  America.  The 
natives  are  of  the  central  Persian  type,  and  most 
resemble  those  of  Isfahan.  The  governorship  is 
held  by  a  Bakhtiari  chief,  who  keeps  some  two 
hundred  mounted  men  of  his  tribe  battening  on 
the  townsfolk.  There  are  a  hundred  Russian 
Cossacks  representing  (or  formerly  representing) 
Allied  interests.  These  men  were  recently  ordered 
to  centralise  at  Isfahan,  but  they  are  said  to  have 
replied  that  they  had  taken  wives  in  Sultanabad, 


214.  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

and  were  very  comfortable  where  they  were  !  I 
found  attempts  were  being  made  by  the  author- 
ities at  the  capital  to  establish  a  fixed  price  for 
wheat  and  barley  in  Sultanabad  in  view  of  the 
general  crop  failure,  and  much  chicanery  was 
going  on  in  consequence.  The  familiar  game  of 
private  money-making  was  likewise  being  played 
with  great  zest  at  the  revenue  office. 

The  Sultanabad  colony  boasts  a  nine-hole  golf 
course  which  provides  better  sport  than  any  we 
ever  played  on  at  home.  It  is  laid  over  a  gravelly 
slope  with  a  few  artificial  bunkers  and  two  or 
three  nasty  dry  and  deep  rivulet  beds.  The  fair- 
way of  the  course  is  swept  free  of  stones  and  scrub. 
Turf  being  impossible,  the  greens  are  '  browns  ' 
made  of  a  plaster  of  mud  and  straw  as  our  tennis 
courts  are  made.  Several  of  them  are  tilted 
with  a  considerable  gradient,  which,  on  the  smooth 
surface,  gives  limitless  putting  possibilities.  A 
gentle  tap  at  the  upper  edge  of  the  green,  for 
instance,  may  send  the  ball  rolling  past  the  hole 
with  gathering  impetus  as  far  as  the  opposite  edge, 
while  a  ball  putted  from  the  lower  end  may  miss 
the  hole  and  roll  back  to  the  striker  half  a  dozen 
times  in  succession :  or  you  may  be  preparing  a 
cautious  hole-out  at  three  or  four  feet  when  a 
great  gust  of  wind  comes  and  rolls  your  ball  away 
to  the  rough.  My  biggest  number  of  putts,  I 
remember,  was  thirteen  for  one  green.  That  was 
a  bad  day,  however.     The  record  for  the  course 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  215 

(held,  needless  to  say,  by  a  Scotsman)  is  somewhere 
about  forty- five. 

My  host's  garden  is  unique  in  its  way,  as  it 
produces  what  I  believe  are  the  best-grown  apples 
and  pears  in  Persia.  His  predecessor  was  a 
student  of  botany,  and  he  gave  his  particular  care 
to  matters  like  grafting  and  pruning  and  liberal 
spacing,  which  are  neglected  by  most  Persian 
gardeners.  I  found  that  the  members  of  the  little 
European  colony  were  making  their  own  red  and 
white  wines,  and  that  they  could  produce  by  very 
simple  methods  a  good  clear  wine  at  a  trifling  cost. 

I  left  Sultanabad  on  my  return  journey  a  week 
ago,  travelling  as  far  as  Hamadan  in  a  light  three- 
horse  Victoria  which  I  had  hired  to  take  me  there 
for  twenty  pounds.  The  horses  were  a  scratch 
lot  that  the  driver  had  bought  two  days  before 
for  eleven  pounds.  They  had  been  straw-fed  for 
months,  and  as  a  consequence  the  journey  took 
us  three  full  days  in  a  biting  wind.  I  spent  the 
third  night  in  Hamadan  and  came  on  the  follow- 
ing morning  in  another  conveyance  of  exactly  the 
same  quality,  which  landed  me  here  yesterday. 
The  roads  were  almost  bare  of  merchandise,  but 
I  passed  a  number  of  military  convoys — or  rather 
a  straggling  stream  of  odds  and  ends — ammuni- 
tion, stores,  ambulance  wagons,  and  men  on 
horseback,  on  mules,  or  on  foot,  all  anyhow — ^the 
Russians  leaving  Kermanshah  and  on  their 
melancholy  way  home  to  taste  the  fruits  of  a 


216  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

disastrous  peace  in  a  topsy-turvy  country.  I 
was  glad,  for  many  reasons,  to  see  them  go — as 
one  is  glad  to  see  a  sick  man  give  up  the  in- 
effectual struggle  and  take  his  trembling  limbs 
to  bed  for  a  while.  Not  that  their  bed  is  anything 
but  a  bed  of  thorns.  .  .  .  God  bless  them,  and 
give  them  peace  ! 

Kermanshah,  6th  January  1918. 

Dear  M., — Since  I  wrote  you  last  I  have  had  a 
little  run  of  festivities  and  farewells,  ending  in 
solitude.  The  Russians  have  continued  their 
withdrawal  till  only  the  nucleus  of  their  garrison 
is  left.  Among  the  last  to  go  were  the  sisters  at 
the  one  remaining  hospital,  who  have  played  the 
game  splendidly  to  the  end  :  they  had  no  tears 
for  us — only  sparkling  eyes  and  laughing  lips  as 
they  said  good-bye,  and  waving  hands  as  they 
sped  off  through  a  light  fall  of  snow.  Later,  on 
New  Year's  Day,  the  Anzac  wireless  and  the 
British -Indian  survey  party  went  away  in  the 
opposite  direction,  bound  for  Baghdad.  The  con- 
sul and  his  wife  left  on  the  same  day  for  a  short 
absence.  The  American  missionary  is  away  on 
duty,  leaving  his  wife  alone.  The  Russian  consul 
remains  with  his  wife,  and  there  is  also  the  Belgian 
director  of  customs,  whom  one  seldom  sees. 

The  town  is  much  disturbed  by  lawlessness — 
the  work  of  ne'er-do-wells  and  political  agitators. 
The  Persian  agent  for  foreign  affairs  was  shot  in 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  217 

the  street  on  the  2nd.  The  new  governor,  who 
arrived  here  on  4th  November,  is  a  man  of  straw. 
The  Russian  general  and  his  die-hards  are  ap- 
prehensive without  reason,  uneasy  in  their  minds, 
anxious  for  the  return  of  the  Partisans  who  went 
to  Mesopotamia  in  the  autunm  to  fight  on  the 
British  right  flank  and  are  now  on  their  way  back. 
The  newspapers,  having  seen  most  of  the  Turks 
and  the  Russians  depart  from  Persia,  are  agitating 
for  the  withdrawal  of  the  British  troops  likewise, 
from  the  south  and  elsewhere.  '  Away  with  the 
South  Persia  Rifles,'  they  say,  'and  let  this 
harassed  neutral  country  settle  its  internal  affairs 
in  peace  !  '  They  have  been  saying  the  same 
thing  ever  since  Sir  Percy  Sykes  began  his  levy- 
raising  in  1916,  but  the  campaign  for  ousting  the 
British  has  become  more  vigorous  of  late.  The 
Persians  incline  to  think  that  England  is  on  the 
downgrade  and  will  soon  share  the  fate  of  Russia, 
so  in  the  meantime  their  minor  publicists  are  the 
less  averse  to  a  little  well-paid  propagandism  on 
behalf  of  Germany. 

In  spite  of  the  departure  of  the  Russian  troops 
the  price  of  bread  stands  at  seven  times  its  normal 
figure.  Famine  relief  has  been  started  in  all  the 
large  towns,  where  deaths  from  starvation  are 
increasing  in  number.  The  trade  of  this  town 
has  sunk  to  a  low  level  as  the  Baghdad  route  has 
been  closed  since  November  1914,  and  the  Shiraz 
road  is  closed  also,  and  some  of  the  other  routes 


218  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

are  infested  with  robbers.  A  way,  however,  has 
been  open  for  some  months  from  Basra  through 
the  hitherto  close  territory  of  the  VaH  of  Pusht- 
ikuh,  and  caravans  of  tea  and  sugar  are  coming 
up  by  slow  degrees.  These  commodities  fetch  a 
hundred  per  cent,  profit,  and  are  sold  at  prices 
far  beyond  the  reach  of  the  poor.  The  enter- 
prising Jew,  risking  his  capital  handsomely, 
njakes  the  bulk  of  the  profit,  but  doesn't  brag 
about  it. 

Kermanshah,  29th  January  1918. 

Dear  M.,— Great  doings  these  last  three  weeks, 
and  more  to  follow.  Great,  that  is,  for  a  little 
place  like  this.  If  you  had  told  me  a  couple 
of  months  ago  that  we  should  have  British 
aeroplanes  landing  at  Kermanshah  and  British 
armoured  cars  passing  through  the  town,  I  should 
have  laughed  regretfully  and  suggested  in  addi- 
tion a  review  of  the  Guards  by  the  King,  or 
something  equally  impossible  and  incongruous. 
But  the  aeroplanes  come  and  go,  and  already  I 
have  had  a  joy-ride  in  a  Lamb  car,  and  our  poor 
little  tables  are  graced,  at  last,  with  a  variety 
of  good  company,  and  life  has  taken  on  a  new 
colour. 

The  main  party  of  Russian  Partisans  arrived 
from  Mesopotamia  five  hundred  strong  on  the 
11th,  bringing  with  them  many  cases  of  Japanese 
beer   and   English   cigarettes   and   Indian  rupee 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  219 

notes,  and  much  honour  for  their  effective  httle 
fight  on  the  Diala  River.  With  them  came  an 
Enghsh  haison  officer  and  an  Austrahan  wireless 
party — the  latter  to  replace  the  Russian  wireless 
who  dismantled  their  installation  and  went  off 
home  three  days  before.  The  Partisans  were 
welcomed  at  lunch  by  General  Mistulof  and  his 
few  remaining  officers,  and  we  had  two  and  a  half 
hours  of  solid  food  and  strong  drink,  and  fiery 
speeches  shouted  out  in  quick  and  long  succession. 
Through  it  all  the  Partisans'  leader,  Colonel 
Bicherakof,  sat  like  a  rock  in  the  surge.  His  face 
was  lit  with  happiness,  and  he  beamed  good- 
naturedly  on  the  noisy  conviviality  of  his  tur- 
bulent countrymen  :  he  spoke  little,  but  his  eye 
sparkled  as  he  referred  to  the  generous  hospitality 
and  the  wonderful  organisation  of  the  British, 
who  had  fed  his  men  like  fighting-cocks. 

At  five  o'clock  we  all  went  home,  and  the 
English  officer  buried  himself  in  despatch- writing. 
The  wireless  operators  got  busy  under  difficulties, 
and  Baghdad,  growing  impatient,  ordered  the 
preparation  of  a  rough  landing-ground  for  aero- 
planes to  bring  up  and  take  back  despatches. 
On  the  16th  a  couple  of  R.E.  8's  arrived.  The 
pilots  were  a  delightful  pair  of  '  bootiful  young 
men,'  and  I  spent  a  very  happy  evening  in  their 
company.  They  flew  back  to  Bakuba  next 
morning,  taking  with  them  a  supply  of  potatoes 
for  their  mess.     These  pioneer  aeroplanes  created 


220  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

a  great  sensation  in  the  town,  and  there  was  much 
speculation  among  the  Persians  as  to  what  their 
coming  foretold. 

On  the  26th  one  of  the  aeroplanes  returned 
accompanied  by  a  third  and  bearing  as  a  passenger 

Colonel   S ,  whose  name  you  will  have  seen 

in  Morgan  Shuster's  book.      S is  a   man  of 

convictions,  and  as  keen  as  ever  on  Persian 
questions.  He  stayed  two  nights  and  flew  on 
yesterday  to  Teheran.  The  first  armoured  car 
arrived  with  its  satellite  Fords  on  the  27th,  and 
passed  on  to  Hamadan  on  the  28th.  On  the 
same  day  Colonel  Bicherakof  and  the  English 
officer  with  him  went  off  to  Hamadan  to  feel  the 
pulse  of  the  Russians  there. 

'  What  are  we  out  for  ?  '  you  ask.  Well, 
we  're  out  to  help  the  Armenians  if  possible,  but 
in  any  case  to  support  the  Caucasus  in  holding 
out  against  a  Bolshevik  peace,  which  means  that 
we  must  get  to  Baku  and  strengthen  the  hands 
of  the  people  there.  It  seems  that  I  am  to  have 
the  privilege  of  watching  a  real  British  military 
side-show  of  the  traditional  sort,  and  it 's  going 
to  be  great  fun. 

Kermanshah  is  an  attractive  station,  and  might 
be  made  a  place  for  the  gods.  The  town  is  built 
on  and  around  a  hill,  at  the  mouth  of  a  valley 
which  debouches  on  to  a  broad  fertile  plain  where 
the  winter  wheat  is  already  showing.  Through 
the  plain,  from  north-west  to  south-east,  runs  a 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  221 

goodly  river  with  willow  groves  at  intervals  on 
its  banks.  On  the  other  side,  six  miles  away,  the 
northern  mountains  rise  abruptly  to  a  height  of 
11,000  feet  above  sea-level,  the  town  itself  being 
already  at  an  altitude  of  5000  feet.  The  flat 
plain  is  almost  bare  of  trees,  and  is  given  up  to 
agriculture,  with  a  few  little  villages  dotted  here 
and  there.  The  view  from  the  south  above  and 
across  the  town  is  a  magnificent  one,  and  the  eye 
roves  from  west  to  east  and  from  east  to  west 
about  an  uninterrupted  panorama,  dwelling  ever 
and  again  on  the  countless  contours  of  these 
fascinating  mountains,  which  stand  out  at  every 
hour  in  some  new  aspect  of  light  and  shade.  The 
peaks  and  the  upper  slopes  are  covered  with  snow, 
and  the  setting  sun,  couching  in  the  uplands  to 
westward,  spreads  for  us  daily  an  evening  ban- 
quet of  colour — soft,  varied,  and  indescribably 
delicate  in  the  ethereal  expanse  of  this  pure 
atmosphere. 

Kermanshah,  24<ih  February  1918. 

Dear  M., — The  show  is  getting  well  under  way, 
and  we  have  had  a  month  of  expanding  activities, 
in  which  there  is  now  a  momentary  lull  so  far 
as  Kermanshah  is  concerned.     On  the  30th  came 

Captain  G ,  an  energetic  young  political  officer 

of  brilliant  quality,  who  has  been  doing  admir- 
able work  since  his  arrival.  His  office  is  usually 
haunted  by  (in  addition  to  more  worthy  people) 


222  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

native  toadies,  intriguers,  agitators,  blackmailers, 
cadgers,  would-be  contractors,  and  other  gentle- 
men of  the  jackal  variety,  relations  with  whom  do 
not  encourage  roseate  ideas  of  the  Persian  char- 
acter. On  the  31st  another  airman  arrived,  and 
he  and  his  brother  pilot,  who  had  been  stranded 
here  for  several  days  owing  to  snow  and  bad 
weather,  returned  to  Bakuba  on  the  first  of  this 

month.    On  the  2nd,  Bicherakof  and  Colonel  C 

returned  from  Hamadan  with  depressing  views 
of  the  Russian  situation  there.     On  the  3rd  came 

General  D with  a  party  of  officers  in  about 

thirty   Ford   cars   on   their   way   to    Hamadan. 

General  D is  it,  straight  from  the  War  Office 

and  bound  for  the  Caucasus.  The  curtain  is 
rimg  up  on  the  first  act,  and  the  star  actor- 
manager  has  appeared — a  fine  big  Englishman 
who  '  takes  the  stage  '  well.  The  officers  are  his 
staff  and  a  first  consignment  of  his  Force. 

On  the  4th,  Major  P arrived  with  another 

Lamb  car,  and  was  hung  up  by  bad  weather. 
On  the  5th  an  inch  of  snow  fell,  and  on  the  8th 
four  inches — unfortunately  for  the  armoured  car. 
On  the  10th  the  airman  who  had  taken  Colonel 

S to    Teheran    returned,    looking  somewhat 

the  worse  for  wear  after  a  week's  lionising  at  the 
capital.  He  showed  me  some  Persian  newspapers 
with  descriptions  of  his  landing,  and  with  many 
indignant  comments  on  this  violation  of  the 
neutral  air  of  Persia.     The  natives  were  markedly 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  223 

unfriendly,  he  said,  and  German  and  Austrian 
officers  were  much  in  evidence  in  the  streets — 
these  officers  being  prisoners  of  war  who  had  been 
sent  east  by  the  Russians  and  who  had  escaped  or 
been  released  and  come  south  into  Persia  to 
further  German  aims.  Next  morning  he  flew 
on  to  Mesopotamia,  taking  with  him  Colonel 
Bicherakof,  who  was  in  one  of  his  sulky  and  im- 
patient moods  and  wanted  to  visit  our  General 
Headquarters. 

On  the  17th,  General  Shore  arrived  from  Ham- 
adan  on  his  way  home  from  Tiflis  via  Baku  and 
Baghdad.  He  was  breathing  fire  and  brimstone 
on  the  Bolshevik,  and  had  many  convincing  tales 
to  tell  of  anarchy  and  blood  and  murder  in  the 
Caucasus.  On  the  20th,  Colonel  Bicherakof  re- 
turned from  Baghdad  on  horseback,  and  on  the 
23rd,  Colonel  C went  off  to  Hamad  an  again. 

The  road  to  Baghdad  is  definitely  open  at  last, 
and  the  traders  are  asking  when  they  will  be 
allowed  to  import  goods  that  way,  as  the  Pusht- 
ikuh  route  is  not  at  all  satisfactory.  But  the 
time  is  not  yet.  Meanwhile,  the  Jews  pray  for 
the  coming  of  the  British,  of  which  the  native 
hears  rumours,  and  of  which  he  thinks  he  sees 
signs.  The  price  of  bread,  which  had  dropped 
somewhat,  is  going  up  again,  and  the  famine 
continues  to  develop.  The  political  agitation 
against  the  presence  of  British  troops  in  Persia 
grows.     It  has  found  a  leader  in  the  person  of 


224  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Mirza  Kuchik  Khan,  a  middle-class  gentleman 
who  controls  some  hundreds  of  warlike  followers 
on  the  Caspian  coast,  near  Resht.  The  name  of 
the  Jangali  (the  forest-dweller)  tribe  has  become 
notorious,  and  their  leader  has  addressed  appeals 
to  the  muUas  and  the  tribes  of  these  parts  to  help 
in  the  cause  of  Persian  independence,  for  which, 
he  declares,  the  Court  party  in  Teheran  care  not  a 
scrap.  He  is  a  sincere  Nationalist,  by  all  accounts, 
and  to  some  extent  disinterested,  though  how  far 
so  is  not  known.  He  and  the  Bolsheviks  between 
them  may  be  responsible  for  the  fact  that  General 

D ,  finding  the  state  of   affairs   unfavourable 

for  the  present,  has  returned  to  Hamadan,  where 
some  of  his  officers  are  now  engaged  on  famine 
relief  work. 

Kermanshah,  20th  March  1918. 

Dear  M., — To-day  is  the  Persian  New  Year's 
Eve,  and  to-morrow  the  native  will  commence  his 
annual  holiday,  which  lasts  from  two  days  to  a 
fortnight.  My  thoughts  are  busy  with  spring, 
and  my  gardener  has  been  working  hard  for  the 
last  ten  days,  with  the  aid  of  half  a  dozen  casual 
labourers,  digging  and  dressing  the  soil  and  sowing 
seed.  The  sowing  smacks  of  war-time  economy, 
as  the  seeds  I  ordered  from  India  last  autumn 
haven't  arrived,  and  he  must  perforce  carry  on 
with  the  few  flower-seeds  he  has — asters,  chrysan- 
thenmms,  petunias,  iris,  snapdragons,  cosmos,  and 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  225 

marigolds — and  give  up  most  of  the  plentiful  open 
spaces  to  vegetables.  He  put  in  some  peach  and 
apple  saplings  recently  in  place  of  the  big  walnut 
trees  cut  down  by  the  Turks  for  firewood  when 
they  used  this  house  as  a  convalescent  hospital. 
He  is  now  planting  potatoes,  carrots,  turnips, 
onions,  tomatoes,  peas,  beetroot,  lettuce,  parsley, 
spinach,  cabbages,  and  cauliflower.  Also  he  is 
cleaning  the  strawberry  bed  and  trimming  the 
vines,  which,  like  the  fruit  trees,  I  cannot  induce 
him  to  prune  sufficiently.  The  lucerne  field  is 
showing  a  fresh  green,  and  the  beans  at  one  end 
of  it  are  well  above  ground.  My  gardener  likes 
to  spend  an  idle  winter  and  do  all  the  knife  and 
saw  and  spade  work  with  a  rush  at  this  time  of 
the  year.  He  says  it  is  madness  to  prune  trees 
before  the  new  sap  rises. 

Apart  from  the  vegetable  patches,  the  garden 
is  a  dear,  delightful  jungle  of  things.  At  the  foot 
of  it,  by  the  gateway,  are  the  stables,  and  behind 
them,  along  a  part  of  one  wall,  is  the  tennis-court 
— useless  till  the  rains  are  over  in  Mav,  because 
the  rains  would  ruin  its  top-dressing  of  mud-and- 
straw  plaster.  Between  the  gateway  and  the 
house  the  way  is  bordered  on  both  sides  with 
poplars.  On  the  one  hand  is  a  medley  of  walnut, 
pear,  apple,  and  almond  trees  ;  on  the  other  a 
swimming-tank,  thirty  feet  by  twelve,  lies  in  the 
middle  of  the  garden  surrounded,  by  a  guard  of 
stout  willows.     Below  it  is  a  screen  of  jungle  ; 


226  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

above  it  is  a  thick  tangle  of  morelloes  and  sour 
plums  half- strangled  with  vines.  On  either  side 
of  the  house,  and  climbing  the  slope  behind  it,  is 
more  promiscuous  orchard — apples  and  pears  and 
figs  and  almonds  and  apricots  and  quinces  and 
mulberries  and  pomegranates,  with  long  grass  and 
weeds  growing  underfoot,  and  hollyhocks  and 
chicory  and  larkspur  rising  haphazard  out  of  the 
grass,  and  roses  and  blackberries  bordering  the 
ample  watercourse.  And  when  you  would  prowl 
there  in  the  fruit-time,  or  take  tea  beneath  the 
spreading  branches  in  the  leafy  summer,  you  pick 
your  way  at  large  in  a  maze  of  wildflowers  and 
woodland,  for  here  are  no  walks  to  discipline 
your  feet,  nor  any  rows  or  angles  to  arrest  your 
eye  and  cry  halt  to  your  fancy.  This  is  the  part 
of  my  garden  that  I  like  best.  The  gardener  is 
paid  to  let  it  alone,  and  being  but  a  philosophic 
hireling  he  is  well  content  to  do  so. 

General  Baratof ,  the  divisional  commander  who 
held  this  front  against  the  Turk,  has  been  here 
making  long  speeches  at  late  dinners.  He  and 
Colonel  Bicherakof  and  Colonel  Leslie  (a  Russian 
of  remote  Scottish  origin)  have  all  gone  off  in 
the  last  week  for  good  and  all,  and  the  whole  of 
the  Partisans'  Detachment  with  them,  so  that  the 
only  Russians  now  here  are  the  consul  and  his 
wife  and  his  assistant  and  the  assistant's  wife — 
the  latter  lady  being,  incidentally,  a  dentist  with 
a  flourishing  practice.     The  future  of  the  Russians 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  227 

who  have  just  gone  is  uncertain,  as  the  Bolsheviks 
are  said  to  be  out  for  their  blood  for  having  kept 
faith  with  Russia's  late  allies  and  ignored  the 
Treaty  of  Brest-Litovsk. 

The  British  have  at  last  committed  themselves 
openly  to  sending  troops  into  north-west  Persia. 
The  whole  major  question  of  our  presence  any- 
where in  the  country  has  apparently  been  opened 
up,  and  the  alternatives  of  reinforcement  or 
absolute  withdrawal  seem  to  have  hung  in  the 
balance  while  the  matter  was  honestly  faced  and 
debated.  The  decision  was  made  about  twelve 
days  ago,  and  on  the  12th  of  March  the  British 
minister  in  Teheran  presented  a  note  to  the 
Persian  government  accordingly,  in  which  it  was 
intimated  that  British  troops  would  be  introduced 
into  north-west  Persia,  and  advanced  farther  if 
need  be  for  the  protection,  during  the  war  only, 
of  our  military  interests  against  enemy  action, 
political  or  military. 

So  that 's  that.  But  now  that  the  responsible 
people  have  made  up  their  minds,  let  them  act 
quickly  for  the  sake  of  our  dignity.  The  town, 
by  the  way,  is  none  too  peaceful,  and  lawlessness 
is  still  prevalent.  Only  two  days  ago  an  employee 
of  the  bank  was  accidentally  wounded  in  three 
places  in  a  sort  of  Texas  encounter  with  pistols 
between  two  swashbuckling  blackguards,  not 
twenty  yards  from  the  bank  door. 


228  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Kermanshah,  15th  April  1918. 

Dear  M., — The  show  goes  on  merrily,  and  our 
activities  continue  to  expand.  Several  more 
parties  of  officers  and  N.C.O.'s  have  passed 
through  for  General  Dunsterville's  Force,  which  is 
asking  for  all  sorts  of  things  and  getting  a  few  of 
them.  More  L.A.M.  cars  have  arrived,  also  an 
administrative  commandant  and  a  local  purchase 
officer,  likewise  a  company  of  l/4th  Hants  and 
a  detachment  of  14th  Hussars — the  latter  hard- 
bitten men  of  the  old  school,  with  a  masterpiece 
of  a  sergeant  straight  from  the  pages  of  Punch. 
The  roads  are  hopelessly  soft  and  muddy,  and 
cause  much  heartbreaking,  making  the  armoured 
cars  useless.  To-day  it  is  raining  heavily — ^the 
fifth  fall  since  the  20th  of  March.  The  weather 
is  ideal  for  the  crops,  and  a  good  wheat  harvest 
is  expected  in  June  and  July,  but  unfortunately 
only  a  third  of  the  possible  area  has  been  sown, 
as  a  result  mainly  of  the  devastation  wrought  by 
the  Turkish  and  Russian  armies  and  the  general 
insecurity  hitherto  prevailing.  The  peasants  are 
largely  destitute,  and  the  villages  on  the  line  of 
march  from  the  Turkish  frontier  are  mostly  in  a 
state  of  utter  ruin  and  desertion.  Wheat  has 
risen  to  eight  times  its  normal  price,  and  the 
British  have  been  carrying  out  extensive  road 
construction  here  and  down  the  line  and  in 
Hamadan  to  relieve  the  very  poor,  who  are  dying 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  229 

by  scores  daily.  Thousands  of  them,  mostly 
women  and  children,  are  mere  half-demented 
skeletons,  incapable  of  labour  till  they  have  been 
fed  for  some  time.  The  American  missionaries 
are  taking  a  most  active  part  in  the  work  of  relief 
and  maintenance.  The  situation  is  worse  in 
Hamadan,  where  cannibalism  has  occurred.  .  .  . 

We  ourselves  suffer  no  shortage,  though  we 
have  to  pay  ten  shillings  a  pound  for  tea,  and  four 
shillings  and  sixpence  a  pound  for  sugar.  We  get 
beef  occasionally,  and  good  mutton  always.  The 
river  produces  very  fair  fish  of  several  kinds, 
including  carp  and  one  like  the  Indian  mahseer. 
Eggs  are  always  to  be  had,  and  in  any  case  my 
cook  keeps  his  own  fowls.  My  cow  provides  me 
with  four  quarts  of  milk  daily,  which  is  the 
maximum  hereabouts,  and  out  of  this  I  get  a 
sufficient  supply  of  table  butter.  Crushed  wheat, 
soaked  overnight,  makes  an  excellent  porridge. 
The  Persian  won't  keep  pigs,  so  we  get  no  break- 
fast bacon  unless  we  import  it  in  tins,  which  it 
is  almost  impossible  to  do  at  present.  Jam  is 
another  difficulty  :  honey  is  to  be  had  in  season, 
and  there  is  a  sticky  sweet-stuff  made  out  of  grape 
juice  which  comes  from  the  interior  and  which 
makes  a  very  good  substitute.  The  bill  for  food 
alone  for  an  ordinary  household  is  about  a 
sovereign  a  day,  and  in  most  parts  of  the  country 
it  is  more. 

My  cook  is  a  local  product,  an  open-mouthed 


230  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

young  man  who  can  bake  a  cake  or  cover  a  pie  or 
prepare  a  vol-au-vent  or  a  chicken  in  aspic  with 
the  best.  His  pecuHarities  are  a  partiahty  for 
minced  meat  and  a  horror  of  onions.  My  head- 
servant  is  a  prize  specimen — a  young  Afghan 
brought  up  in  Kermanshah  and  married  to  a 
Persian,  with  two  pretty  httle  dark-eyed  daugh- 
ters. He  runs  the  house  to  perfection  and  allows 
me  to  mind  my  own  business  while  he  minds  his — 
never  needing  to  be  told  that  a  room  should  be 
cleaned  or  a  door  mended  or  the  linen  changed  or 
a  button  sewn  on  or  a  visitor  regaled.  He  knows 
all  about  our  army  rank  and  never  consults  me 
about  precedence,  and  his  quick  eye  is  amusingly 
accurate  on  that  point.  Moreover,  he  is  deft, 
active,  and  noiseless,  and  his  respectful,  solicitous 
smile  is  alone  worth  half  his  wages  to  a  tired 
bachelor.  His  '  mate  '  is  a  round-faced,  smooth- 
cheeked,  dapper,  and  deliberate  little  man  who 
cleans  the  lamps  and  dusts  the  furniture  and 
washes  the  dishes,  and  keeps  his  clothes  spotless 
through  it  all.  He  is  a  local  Persian  and  supports 
a  wife  and  family.  The  '  sweeper  '  is  a  wide-eyed, 
heavy-handed  fellow,  who  fetches  the  water  and 
prepares  the  baths  and  cleans  the  carpets  and 
makes  the  fires.  He  is  addicted  to  opium,  but 
is  trustworthy  and  fairly  industrious.  His  wages 
are  largely  spent  in  propitiating  the  drug  fiend. 
The  gardener  is  also  a  local  man — a  placid,  steady- 
going,  simple-minded  worker,  who  appropriates 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  281 

the  produce  of  the  garden  over  and  above  his 
perquisites  when  he  gets  the  chance.  He  sends 
his  little  son  to  school,  but  has  no  ambitions  for 
the  son's  emancipation  from  manual  labour.  The 
gardener's  apprentice  looks  after  the  cow  and  her 
calf,  helps  his  master  on  the  irrigation  days,  and 
sings,  on  sunny  afternoons,  little  snatches  of  song. 
Fortunately  most  afternoons  are  sunny. 

Kermanshah,  28^^  June  1918. 
Dear  M., — I  have  had  a  very  busy  two  months, 
and  now,  behold  !  we  are  in  midsummer,  and  life  is 
a  pleasant  and  goodly  thing — at  night,  when  the 
tiny  black  dog  stops  barking,  and  the  water 
gurgles  under  the  trees  and  the  nightingale  drops 
little  showers  of  pearls  into  the  moonlight — or  at 
dawn,  when  I  sip  my  tea  and  get  out  of  bed 
and  take  a  look  at  the  mountains,  and  go  down 
to  the  middle  of  the  garden  and  stand  barefooted 
on  the  grass  by  the  deep  tank  and  look  out  across 
the  sleeping  town  through  the  delicate  mists  of 
morning  to  the  wonderful  vista  away  to  the  north- 
west, and  then  plunge  into  the  fresh  cool  water 
and  startle  the  fat  old  frogs  and  the  goldfish,  and 
come  out  again  with  the  cobwebs  of  sleep  and  the 
sting  of  the  sandfly  all  gone — or  in  the  afternoon, 
when  the  heat  of  the  day  is  passing  and  I  slough 
my  work-weariness  and  summer  slackness  in  the 
magic  waters  by  the  willows,  and  come  back  to 
subside  into  a  big  easy-chair — or  in  the  evenings, 


232  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

when  the  lamps  are  lit  among  a  kindly  company, 
and  the  pieces  are  pushed  about  the  board  of  war 
and  its  local  aspects  and  problems  in  the  criss- 
cross of  easy  conversation. 

Do  you  frown  as  you  read  this,  and  turn  again 
to  your  meatless  days  and  your  nursing  of  shat- 
tered bodies  and  your  newspapers'  tales  of  coming 
German  offensives  ? 

The  war  drags  on  as  unfruitfull)''  here  as  at 
home,  but  with  a  confidence  as  big-hearted.  We 
are  still  developing — not  for  fighting  at  Kerman- 
shah,  but  for  passing  on  fighters  and  material 
over  the  long  highway  from  railhead  at  Ruz  to 
the  Caspian  Sea  and  beyond.  There  are  so  few 
fighters,  and  they  need  so  much  material  over 
this  terribly  long  line  !  In  the  beginning  of  May 
we  had  typhus  in  camp — over  a  score  of  men  of 
the  l/4th  Hants  down  at  one  time,  with  only 
one  M.O.  and  no  orderlies  to  look  after  them. 
The  14th  Hussars  provided  volunteer  orderlies, 
and  the  M.O.  provided  skill  and  care  and  untiring 
attention,  and  the  typhus  cases  were  all  saved. 
During  the  epidemic  some  Turkish  deserters  were 
released,  for  the  reason  that  there  was  no  accom- 
modation for  them  and  there  were  not  enough 
troops  to  guard  them.  They  were  told  to  come 
back  on  a  certain  date,  and  they  went  away  crest- 
fallen. On  the  day  indicated  they  returned,  and 
it  was  found  that  their  numbers  had  gro"s\Ti  from 
twenty-five   to   thirty-six.     More   deserters   pre- 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  233 

sented  themselves  later,  and  for  some  weeks  they 
kept  trickling  into  the  town  with  their  pockets 
empty  and  their  clothes  desperately  in  rags, 
accosting  officers  in  the  streets  and  begging  to 
be  arrested  and  sent  to  Baghdad. 

Troops  dribble  up,  and  the  town  hums  with 
motor  transport.  The  last  rains  fell  in  May,  and 
the  cars  and  lorries  no  longer  stick  in  the  mud,  but 
cover  themselves  with  dust  instead.  Mesopotamia 
has  fixed  its  tired  eyes,  somewhat  wonderingly, 
on  the  Persian  Line  of  Communications  and  the 
doings  of  the  Dunster  Force  at  the  other  end  of  it. 
Baghdad,  baulked  by  our  needs  of  its  advance  on 
Mosul  in  the  spring,  turns  in  the  hot  summer  of 
the  plains  to  thoughts  of  the  cooler  altitude  of 
Kermanshah,  where  the  maximum  temperature 
never  exceeds  106°.  The  Higher  Commands,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  lull  in  their  own  operations, 
have  come  up  to  get  a  better  idea  of  what  is 
happening  on  their  right  flank,  and  to  scrutinise 
the  longest  L.  of  C.  in  history,  or  to  inspect  and 
advise  the  forces  under  their  control.  They  have 
stayed  a  couple  of  days,  cursed  our  sandflies,  and 
dashed  back  to  the  land  of  electric  fans,  iced 
drinks,  and  118°  in  the  shade. 

The  Baghdad  road  is  open  to  trade,  and  caravans 
of  merchandise  are  streaming  along  it.  The  Jew 
has  scuttled  in  to  make  his  fortune,  the  Persian 
merchant  following  more  sedately  in  his  wake. 


234  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Kermanshah,  31st  July  1918. 
Dear  M.,— The  grain  has  been  harvested,  and 
the  famine  is  over  at  last,  though  very  httle  of  the 
wheat  has  been  brought  in  owing  to  lack  of  trans- 
port, all  the  available  donkeys  being  engaged  by 
the  troops  on  road-making.  Prices  are  high  and 
likely  to  remain  so,  as  the  British  requirements 
are  heavy.  The  force  has  thrown  an  arm  north- 
wards into  Kurdistan  in  support  of  the  Christian 
tribes  south  of  Urmia  who  were  stoutly  opposing 
the  Turk  with  the  very  small  means  at  their  dis- 
posal. A  detachment  of  14th  Hussars  and  Hamp- 
shires  left  here  for  Senneh  some  weeks^ago.  The 
Gurkhas  have  been  using  their  kukris  most  effect- 
ively in  Resht,  and  have  cleared  the  atmosphere 
of  that  town  itself,  while  the  Jangalis  outside  the 
tovv'n  have  been  brought  to  terms  by  a  little 
bombing  from  aeroplanes — a  form  of  warfare 
against  which  they  are  powerless.  The  bigwigs 
from  Mesopotamia  continue  to  keep  us  up  to  the 
scratch  with  hurried  visits,  and  Kermanshah, 
despite  the  sandflies,  looks  like  becoming  a  minor 

hill-station  for  Baghdad.     General  D has  been 

down  to  G.H.Q.,  and  passed  through  again  on  the 
20th  on  his  way  back  to  Kazvin.  The  British 
Navy  is  about  to  hoist  its  flag  oh  the  Caspian  Sea 
for  the  first  time  in  history.  My  servant,  Rasul, 
telephoned  to  my  office  yesterday  to  announce 
the  arrival  of  a  strange  sakihmansab  at  the  house. 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  285 

'  He  is  not  an  ordinary  major  or  colonel  or 
captain  or  general,  sahib.  I  don't  know  what 
he  is  !  '  The  mysterious  officer  proved  to  be  the 
expected  commodore — a  sight  for  the  gods  in 
these  parts.  When  I  got  home  in  the  afternoon 
I  found  him  rolling  like  a  giddy  porpoise  in  the 
tank.  I  took  to  the  water  after  him,  and  we 
finished  off  the  operation  with  a  dish  of  black 
mulberries  and  cream,  followed  by  tea  and  a  cheery 
pipe  at  the  end  of  it. 

So  you  are  off  to  Madrid  in  the  autumn.  Well, 
I  hope  you  won't  marry  a  Spaniard.  Perhaps 
the  place  may  give  you  some  light  on  my  remarks 
about  Persia,  as  by  all  accounts  the  two  countries 
have  some*  points  of  resemblance — in  geography 
and  climate,  and  to  some  extent  in  character  and 
national  conditions  and  outlook.  There  must 
be  a  good  deal  of  Arab  blood  in  the  south,  too. 
I  notice,  however,  that  while  Spain  is  only  a  third 
of  the  size  of  Persia,  its  population  is  double  that 
of  this  country. 

Kermanshah,  29th  September  1918. 

Dear  M., — Much  has  happened  since  I  wrote 
you  two  months  ago.  Our  half-heartedly  heroic 
efforts  north  of  Persian  Kurdistan  miscarried 
somewhat,  and  the  Christian  tribes  of  the  Urmia 
Lake  district  decided  in  consequence  to  make  a 
bolt  for  it,  save  what  was  left  of  their  souls,  and 
throw  themselves  on  the  hospitality  of  the  British. 


236  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

So,  while  our  department  of  local  resources  was 
straining  its  utmost  to  procure  sufficient  grain, 
meat,  and  so  forth  to  feed  the  sappers  and  hospitals 
and  posts  and  travelling  troops  in  its  area,  their 
distracting  reflections  on  things  in  general  were 
enlivened  by  the  receipt  of  a  wire  from  Hamadan 
announcing  the  imminent  arrival  of  60,000  hungry- 
refugees.  Sixty  thousand — a  number  equal  to 
the  whole  population  of  Kermanshah  !  In  due 
course  they  began  to  arrive — Syrians  in  little 
Robinson  Crusoe  hats,  sturdy  Jhelus,  scowling 
Armenians  with  their  wives  and  families  and 
their  fathers  and  mothers  and  grandfathers  and 
grandmothers,  and  their  ponies  and  buffaloes  and 
big  lumbering  oxen — some  of  the  men  riding, 
some  of  the  women  walking,  lots  of  them  in 
British  motor-lorries,  all  of  them  hungry  and 
dirty,  most  of  them  penniless  (though  the  Armen- 
ians have  rich  uncles  who  are  waiters  in  New 
York  and  Chicago),  and  many  of  them  steeped  in 
malaria  or  worse  disease.  They  were  pushed  on 
to  Mesopotamia  by  all  means  possible,  and  they 
have  been  arriving  and  being  pushed  on  ever 
since.  It  is  a  wonderful  migration — a  second 
Exodus,  with  the  Turk  for  Pharaoh  and  the  British 
for  Moses.  But  what  a  splendidly  tactful,  sym- 
pathetic, and  tireless  leader  Moses  must  have 
been  ! 

The  bid  for  Baku  was  too  much  for  us,  as  the 
newspapers  will  have  told  you.     The  Turks  bid 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  237 

much  higher,  and  got  it  in  the  end.  They  had  an 
army  for  the  capture  of  the  town,  whereas  General 
D had  a  mere  nine  hundred  men  for  its  reten- 
tion. The  Baku  Armenians  were  expected  to 
help,  but  they  broke  and  ran  from  the  attack,  and 
were  massacred  for  their  pains  after  our  troops 
had  sailed  back  to  Persian  soil.  Echoes  of  the 
fight  still  reach  us  in  the  form  of  occasional 
wounded  men  going  down  to  the  base.  The 
whole  of  this  little  campaign  has  been  one  big 
bluff — a  stouthearted,  madcap  adventure,  with 
Bicherakof  in  the  van,  and  behind  him  our  big 
Elizabethan  Englishman,  riding  magnificently  for 
a  fall.  It  might  have  been  a  glorious  success, 
but  as  the  luck  went,  it  has  been  a  very  gallant 
failure.  Meanwhile,  we  have  wondered  much 
why  the  Turk  has  not  attempted  to  come  round 
south  and  cut  us  off  somewhere  between  Kerman- 
shah  and  Resht — a  long  line  and  an  absurdly 
thin  one.  Probably  the  Turk  is  played  out, 
and  in  any  case  he  would  find  the  question  of 
supply  even  more  difficult  than  it  has  been  for 
our  men. 

We  are  in  the  thick  of  Spanish  influenza,  and 
the  troops  have  suffered  heavily.  Pneumonia  and 
malaria  on  top  of  it  have  caused  many  deaths, 
particularly  amongst  the  Indians,  and  the  hos- 
pitals here  and  in  Hamadan  are  full  of  sick.  The 
epidemic  has  spread  through  the  to\vns,  and  half 
the  population  seems  to  have  suffered  more  or 


238  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

less.  My  own  turn  came  on  the  21st,  and  all 
my  servants  went  down  with  it  at  the  same 
time. 

The  British  minister  in  Teheran  has  gone  home, 
and  his  place  has  been  taken  by  Sir  Percy  Cox,  who 
was  civil  commissioner  in  Baghdad  and  has  now 
gone  to  the  Persian  capital  in  the  capacity  of 
special  commissioner  and  charge  d'affaires.  The 
move  is  an  interesting  one,  and  suggests  that  the 
Foreign  Office  is  now  taking  affairs  in  this  country 
seriously. 

Kermanshah,  25th  October  1918. 

Dear  M., — The  news  of  the  surrender  of  Bul- 
garia was  the  best  we  had  had  for  a  long  time,  and 
in  a  continuous  stream  of  good  news,  too.  It 
indicated  the  cutting-off  of  Turkey  from  her  allies, 
and,  in  combination  with  the  shattering  of  Turkey's 
forces  in  Palestine  in  the  first  week  of  October,  it 
suggests  the  early  elimination  of  another  enemy, 
which  would  leave  us  at  peace  on  this  front. 
Meanwhile,  Mesopotamia  is  putting  in  an  oppor- 
tune blow,  and  our  troops  are  active  on  the  road 
to  Mosul. 

Since  I  wrote  you  last  month  I  have  paid  a 
short  visit  to  Baghdad,  where  I  spent  a  few  very 
pleasant  days.  The  journey  by  car  takes  two 
days  or  more.  The  road  on  this  side  of  the 
frontier  has  been  metalled  to  a  great  extent,  and 
sappers  and  steam  rollers  are  still  busy  on  it,  and 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  239 

will  be  so  for  some  time  to  come.  The  villages 
that  formed  the  old  caravan  stages  are  still  in 
utter  ruin. 

I  got  back  here  on  the  19th  and  spent  the  follow- 
ing day  snipe-shooting  at  a  spot  eighteen  miles 
away.  We  motored  out  at  eight-thirty  and 
arrived  at  the  Lake  of  Lilies  before  ten  o'clock. 
From  there  the  snipe  marshes  run  north,  more  or 
less  in  line,  to  another  small  sheet  of  water  with 
reed  banks.  We  shot  till  one,  and  then  settled 
down  on  a  convenient  knoll  to  explore  the  con- 
tents of  the  tiffin-basket.  After  lunch  we  thought 
it  over  comfortably  for  a  while,  and  then  decided 
unanimously  not  to  spoil  a  perfect  day,  but  rather 
to  leave  the  rest  of  the  birds  for  a  future  occasion. 
So  we  drove  back  in  cheery  mood  and  arrived 
home  at  four  o'clock,  in  good  time  for  a  change 
and  tea  and  a  few  rubbers  of  bridge  to  complete 
the  programme.  The  bag  for  the  four  guns  was 
21  snipe,  4  mallard,  3  teal,  and  5  plover — a  good 
average  day. 

In  Baghdad  I  heard  two  of  the  four  biggest  men 
there  asked  when  they  thought  the  war  would  be 
over.  One  of  them  said  we  might  expect  it  to 
last  till  1921.  The  other  said  he  thought  it 
might  end  by  Christmas,  but  he  didn't  anticipate 
a  separate  armistice  with  Turkey  in  the  meantime, 
as  our  terms  would  be  too  heavy  to  tempt  the 
Turks.     So  now  you  know. 


240  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

Kermanshah,  29th  December  1918. 

Dear  M., — I  am  sorry  for  you  in  Madrid.  A 
neutral  country  must  be  the  last  place  to  be  in 
these  cheery  days.  I  am  in  a  neutral  country 
myself,  of  course,  but  really  I  forget  the  fact  often 
enough,  as  the  life  we  lead  is  so  unlike  that  of  the 
old  peace-time.  The  hours  pass  pleasantly  in 
congenial  work,  and  the  invaluable  boon  of  good 
company  is  never  lacking.  Kermanshah,  by  the 
way,  has  a  finer  set  of  fellows  in  its  officers' 
messes  than  any  other  place  on  the  line.  Good 
relations  never  fail,  and  the  leaven  of  humour 
lightens  the  telephone  talk  and  semi-official 
correspondence  and  anteprandial  assemblies  all 
the  time. 

The  hospitals  are  no  longer  congested,  and  the 
work  of  the  doctors  (and  padres)  is  less  onerous 
than  it  was.  We  have  a  Red  Cross  depot,  and 
plenty  of  small  pianos — and  gramophones  that 
never  seem  to  get  played.  The  men  have  a 
Soldiers'  Club  where  dances  and  lectures  while 
away  the  long  evenings,  particularly  for  those 
who  are  kicking  their  heels  in  the  well-filled  rest- 
house  waiting  for  transport.  The  Mechanical 
Transport  (in  whose  ranks  art  always  seems  to 
flourish)  have  regaled  the  station  with  tv/o  or 
three  first-rate  variety  performances.  Arrange- 
ments were  made  for  a  varied  programme  of 
sports  on  Christmas  and  Boxing  Day,  but  snow 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  241 

and  rain  prevented  most  of  the  meetings.  Snipe- 
shooting  is  popular  with  Headquarters  on 
off-days,  and  I  have  spent  a  few  dehghtful 
afternoons  in  the  gardens  around,  and  in  the 
very  EngHsh  '  bottoms  '  up  the  valley,  after 
woodcock — though  I  confess  I  haven't  shot  any 
woodcock. 

The  belated  canteen  is  at  last  well  stocked,  and 
Tommy  gets  an  ample  supply  of  cigarettes  and 
tinned  things.  It  has  been  forcibly  impressed 
on  us  here  from  the  first  that  our  fighting  man  is 
a  conservative  creature.  He  wants  his  Woodbine, 
and  turns  up  his  nose  at  the  Persian  cigarette 
which  the  mere  officer  smokes  :  even  when  the 
troops  at  Resht  were  given  fresh  caviare  as  a 
ration  they  expressed  strong  disapproval  of  what 
they  called '  fish-jam.' 

And  what  about  demobilisation  now  that  every- 
thing has  been  got  going  nicely  at  last  ?  All  the 
men  and  most  of  the  officers  are  impatient  for  it. 
The  Turks  have  vanished,  Germany  is  a  burst 
balloon,  and  Russia  has  thrown  herself  out  of  the 
window.  What  remains  but  to  go  home  ?  Meso- 
potamia is  going  home — one  division  has  already 
started  on  its  way  down  to  Basra.  The  troops  up 
this  line  now  move,  when  they  move  at  all,  towards 
Baghdad  only,  and  from  Kermanshah  itself  a  few 
officers  in  the  teachers'  and  students'  category 
are  going  home.  But  the  sappers  and  pioneers 
remain,  and  the  road- making  goes  on.     Will  they 

Q 


242  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

complete  the  work,  I  wonder,  or  will  they  leave 
the  road  in  parts  a  rough  unfinished  monument, 
to  draw,  for  a  decade,  the  smiles  and  imprecations 
of  muleteers  and  camelmen  and  motorists,  instead 
of  their  blessings  for  a  generation  ? 

On  the  17th  of  November  we  entered  Baku 
again,  under  different  conditions  and  with  differ- 
ent prospects.  The  Black  Sea  is  open,  and  we 
are  establishing  a  base  at  Batoum,  the  western 
port  of  the  Caucasus.  We  have  made  our  bow 
to  the  Georgians,  walked  into  Tiflis,  and  settled 
down  there.  So,  as  the  war  ends,  a  new  campaign 
develops  east  of  Constantinople,  and  a  more 
convenient  occidentation  is  given  to  our  opera- 
tions in  distant  Transcaspia.  India  is  not  yet 
safe.  The  Turco-German  threat  is  past,  and 
Imperial  Russia  is  no  more  ;  but  a  fresh  source 
of  apprehension  has  discovered  itself  to  our 
watchful  political  representatives  during  the  last 
twelve  months  :  the  ghost  of  Bolshevism  troubles 
their  sleep.  And  Persia  ?  Persia  is  the  long 
dark  passage  down  which  the  horrid  ghost  may 
come  to  our  precious  India.  So  we  place  an 
unimaginative  sentry  in  the  passage,  and  we  talk 
of  putting  electric  light  there,  and  then  we  go  to 
bed  and  draw  the  blankets  round  us.  And  India, 
all  the  time,  becomes,  by  our  decrees,  less  and 
less  a  Field  for  our  Younger  Sons — becomes  less 
and  less  of  a  white  man's  country  :  so  that  our 
finer  youth  will  shortly  have  none  of  it,  and  the 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  243 

process  of  enfranchisement  will  accordingly   be 
hastened. 

All  of  which  unfolds  to  my  satisfaction  (and  I 
hope  to  yours)  the  perfect  and  ideal  quality  of 
our  national  Imperialism.  For  are  we  not  at 
this  moment  engaged  in  jealously  protecting 
with  the  one  hand  what  we  are  giving  up  with 
the  other  ? 

Kermanshah,  6th  February  1919. 

Dear  M., — I  am  for  home,  and  leave  to-morrow 
via  Baku  and  Constantinople.  I  shall  be  a  sort 
of  Rip  Van  Winkle,  I  suppose,  after  these  six 
years.  But  I  suspect  that  the  great  changes 
produced  by  the  war  may  not  have  been  so  very 
radical  as  was  foretold.  We  had  strikes  and  the 
possibility  of  civil  war  in  Ireland  in  1914,  and  we 
seem  to  have  both  still.  The  general  election 
campaign  has  apparently  been  like  previous  ones, 
with  the  same  catchword  frothiness,  the  same 
pandering  to  vulgar  impulse  and  short-sighted 
selfishness,  the  same  rash  promises.  The  anti- 
climax to  war,  viewed  from  a  distance,  is  dis- 
appointing. Yet  the  public  mind  seems  inclined 
to  a  spiritual  awakening,  though  the  talk  of  the 
publicists  is  still  class  talk.  Is  not  the  world  ripe 
for  the  coming  of  a  new  prophet  ? 

There  has  been  little  movement  here  since  I 
wrote  you  last.  The  Mechanical  Transport  is 
being  largely  withdrawn,  as  it  has  been  found  that 


244  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

it  isn't  worth  its  upkeep  in  petrol  now  that  pack 
transport  is  less  difficult  to  provide  for  our  re- 
duced requirements.  Trade  with  Baghdad  and 
the  interior  continues  to  flourish  on  an  unpre- 
cedented scale.  The  Jews  are  coining  money, 
and  being  of  Baghdad  origin  are  putting  forward 
claims  for  British  protection  on  the  ground  of 
our  occupancy  of  Mesopotamia.  The  governor, 
a  Persian  prince  of  famous  parentage,  who  was 
educated  at  Harrow  and  Sandhurst  and  passed  a 
term  with  the  French  Army,  is  mildly  interested 
in  industrial  development.  I  have  suggested  to 
him  the  possibilities  of  sugar  beet,  and  of  a  glass 
factory  under  European  supervision  to  begin 
with,  and  also  the  favourable  conditions  for  ex- 
tending the  local  manufacture  of  carpets,  which 
could  best  be  done  by  bringing  a  score  of  crafts- 
men from  Kerman  for  a  beginning.  He  has  not 
enough  security  of  tenure,  however,  to  foster 
such  enterprises. 

The  future  of  Persia  is  still  uncertain.  Various 
ideas  have  been  mooted  for  its  military  policing 
and  governance  ;  but  perhaps  the  Peace  Confer- 
ence will  eventually  decide  the  fate  of  this  country 
in  the  general  settlement  for  which  we  are  all  wait- 
ing. Meanwhile,  I  alarmed  a  local  leading  official 
the  other  day  by  drawing  a  lurid  picture  of  what 
might  happen  if  and  when  the  British  withdrew. 
The  Shah  is  none  too  popular,  and  his  throne  might 
conceivably  topple.     Monarchist  and  republican 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  245 

nationalists  would  disagree,  and  there  would  be 
fighting.  Several  of  the  bigger  tribes  would  make 
a  bid  for  supreme  power,  and  there  would  be 
raids  and  slaughter  and  general  disorder.  The 
boiling  pot  of  the  Caucasus,  with  the  controlling 
hand  of  Imperial  Russia  removed,  would  bubble 
over  into  north-west  Persia,  while  on  the  eastern 
side  the  Turkoman  and  other  tribes  would  overrun 
the  fair  province  of  Khorasan,  laying  it  waste  on 
historical  lines.  Local  and  foreign  trade  would 
cease,  as  the  roads  would  be  infested  with  bandits. 
The  Persian  government  has  had  a  chance  to 
set  its  house  in  order  while  British  troops  were 
strengthening  its  hand,  but  nothing  has  been 
done  to  take  advantage  of  a  golden  opportunity, 
and  the  average  official,  when  he  is  not  robbing 
the  public,  is  still  wrapt  in  plaintive  apathy. 
My  friend  agreed  with  all  this  (the  Persian  is 
nothing  if  not  polite)  and  added,  with  enthusiasm, 
that  every  member  of  the  official  and  ruling 
classes  was  corrupt  and  dishonest,  except  himself. 

London,  I5th  March  1919. 

Dear  M., — I  left  Kermanshah  by  car  on  the  7th 
of  February,  stayed  over  the  9th  at  Hamadan, 
and  arrived  at  Kazvin  on  the  10th,  Resht  on  the 
12th,  and  Baku  on  the  14th.  At  Kazvin  and 
Resht  I  found  our  political  and  military  repre- 
sentatives energetically  negotiating  between  rival 
elements  of  local  politics.     At  Baku  I  observe 


246  FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS 

with  admiration  that  our  mihtary  chiefs,  who  were 
more  remarkable  for  quahty  than  for  strength  of 
numbers,  had  settled  down  in  some  of  the 
choicest  premises  available  and  were  calmly, 
comfortably,  and  effectively  fathering  the  affairs 
of  four  small,  very  excitable,  and  brand-new 
republics.  I  left  Baku  on  the  evening  of  the  15th 
by  a  troop-train  carrying  Austrian  prisoners  of 
war  under  an  escort  of  Staffords — miners  on  their 
way  home.  We  halted  a  few  hours  at  Tiflis  and 
at  frequent  intervals  en  route,  and  arrived  at 
Batoum  on  the  morning  of  the  19th.  On  the 
22nd  I  left  Batoum  on  a  big  troopship,  and 
arrived  at  Constantinople  in  a  thick  fog  on  the 
24th.  The  shores  of  the  Bosphorus  were  delight- 
fully picturesque.  Constantinople,  seen  through 
the  fog,  offered  a  strange  contrast,  with  the  slender 
minarets  and  ample  domes  of  the  great  Stamboul 
mosques  unfolding  beauty  and  enchantment  on 
the  one  side  of  the  Golden  Horn,  and  on  the  other 
the  businesslike,  many-storied  modern  buildings 
of  Galata  and  Pera  suggesting  a  modest  replica 
of  some  American  port.  We  coaled  in  primitive 
fashion  at  Constantinople  and  left  on  the  27th, 
arriving  at  Salonica  on  the  1st  of  March.  Salonica, 
'  the  Pearl  of  the  ^Egean,'  is  a  very  doubtful 
gem.  Half  of  it  has  been  destroyed  by  fire.  The 
town  sea-front  is  mainly  remarkable  for  a  de- 
pressing succession  of  low-class  cinemas  and  cafes 
chantants.     The   British   troops   in   camp   above 


FROM  PERSIAN  UPLANDS  247 

the  town  are  in  poor  health,  and  are  waiting, 
as  never  men  waited,  for  demobihsation.  The 
flow  of  uniformed  humanity  in  the  streets  is 
perhaps  the  most  varied  that  one  could  watch 
anywhere,  for  it  includes  Greeks  and  Serbians, 
and  Bulgarian  prisoners,  British  naval  and 
military,  French,  Americans  male  and  female, 
Italians,  Russians,  and  natives  of  northern  Africa 
and  India  and  Cochin-China. 

I  had  a  stay  of  five  days  at  Salonica,  and  con- 
sidered myself  lucky  to  get  off  with  that.  I  left 
on  the  6th  in  a  glorified  cattleship  which  had 
200  troops  on  board  and  600  horses  on  the  lower 
deck.  We  had  a  pleasant  voyage  with  a  cheery 
ship's  company,  and  arrived  at  Marseilles  on  the 
11th.  I  left  by  the  rapide  the  same  evening,  and 
reached  Paris  in  eighteen  hours.  Four  hours  in 
Paris,  and  then  home  by  Havre  and  Southampton. 
On  the  morning  of  the  13th  I  was  travelling  up  to 
London,  watching  out  of  the  window  for  signs  of 
that  welter  of  munition  factories  and  chimney- 
stacks  which  the  papers  had  led  me  to  imagine 
was  Modern  England.  But  what  I  saw  in  the 
south  was  mostly  the  old  meadows  and  ploughed 
fields  and  woodlands,  the  placid  villages  and  quiet 
farms  and  meandering  streams — only  the  mellow 
beauty  of  Old  England.  As  we  reached  the  heart 
of  London  I  remarked  on  the  dim-lit  haze  over- 
spreading the  town,  and  was  reminded  that  that 
was  the  normal  atmosphere — a  fact  which  I  had 


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